


Vanished with the Dawn

by Shanieomaniac



Series: Into The Horizon: The Disappearance of Shane McMahon and the New Mean Street Posse [1]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Arena fighters, Based on a Dream, F/M, Futuristic Slavery Stuff, Gladiators, I'm so sorry, I'm trying hard but this is basically trash, Includes references to Shane McMahon/Marissa Mazzola-McMahon, Inspired by Star Trek: Voyager, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The story here was just part of one night's dream, Think Roman Gladiators But In The 28th Century, This entire saga occured over several nights
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:20:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 47,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26525101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shanieomaniac/pseuds/Shanieomaniac
Summary: After Shane McMahon disappears in 2001, Tina LaMotte, a rising star in the still-developing Women's MMA scene, throws herself into her fighting to cope. But just a few months after Shane vanishes, she finds herself abducted, pulled into a distant future where to fight is to survive and to win is to live. Now, trapped in a hellhole as a gladiatorial slave, she must find her path to victory and to the pinnacle of the Arena of Fighting.And little does she know, there's a familiar face there waiting for her at the top.This is Tina's Story.Part of the "Adventures in Dreamland" line of stories.
Relationships: Shane McMahon/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Into The Horizon: The Disappearance of Shane McMahon and the New Mean Street Posse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1928746





	1. Into The Mists

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I'm here again. Someone, one lone person said she'd be interested in this, so here I am. Writing for her. I'm posting the first chapter here to see if anyone bites, but I doubt they will. This story, and this entire saga, was based on a series of dreams I had in August 2020. This is the only part I'm certain of right now, the beginning. More than likely this one is gonna be an epic, with the stories of Tina, Billie and Nikki combining in a Game of Thrones type narrative. I hope. That's the plan at least.
> 
> Anyway, if you feel like reading this, let me know what you think. Like I said, I know it's probably bad, and a mary sue, but it is based on a dream of mine, so take it for what it is. I dream in first person, this is what you get.
> 
> Enjoy!

Tina was exhilarated.

  
As she was declared the victor of the match, and her arm raised, she beat her fist across her chest. Another MMA match won and in the books. She listened to the crowd as they sounded their approval. She’d only had two fights before that and already people were talking about her rising as a star.

Tina LaMotte was a 23-year-old woman from Sacramento, California. Athletic, skilled, and a touch violent as a child, she chose martial arts over Barbies at a young age and had thrived in the field. Taekwondo transitioned into Judo and eventually Brazilian Jujitsu as she got older. She was a force to be reckoned with, with her cropped brown hair and slick, tanned skin glistening under the lights. For a young woman, Tina was fearsome. Training hard daily, she had turned her body into a force of destruction, her muscles defined and taut. In 2001, the existence of women in MMA was tentative at best, with few events taking place and opponents sparse. But ever since the first fight four years earlier, the concept was gaining traction, especially internationally, and Tina was beginning to consider her options outside the US. Japan had a pretty large scene going on, perhaps her future lay there?

As she made her way to the back, her coach, Mitch, came up to her.

“Great job as use’ babe,” he told her as she headed into the locker room. “At this rate, the other promotions are gonna have to notice. Sooner or later, those chauvinistic assholes are gonna realize that women can fight too. Either that or someone’s gonna have to beat it into them. How ‘bout ya give it a shot, hun?”

Tina rolled her eyes. Mitch was a good coach, but he wasn’t the best with talking to women as equals. Sure, he supported women’s mixed martial arts and thought that it should be promoted. But he was still rather sexist and had a habit of using pet names with her. She had always wondered what it would feel like to bare-knuckle smash his teeth in, but it wouldn’t suit her career, so she kept her hands (and remarks) to herself.

Instead, she just took a drink from the bottle he was holding out and used her towel to wipe her face.

“I’d love to,” she told him, “but nobody takes women like me seriously. Women are eye candy, even if you can whoop a guy's ass, he still wants to hold the door for you. I swear you have to look like Chyna to even get respect.”

“Chyna who?”

“Nobody.”

Tina was a WWE Fan by nature, and, at one point, she’d even considered joining the promotion until she realized that they were more interested in valets then actual women’s wrestling. Chyna, the Ninth Wonder of the World, had made great breakthroughs, but even she’d been relegated to the women’s division in the past month or so. It was heartbreaking and Tina wondered what it would take for the world to see women as fighters, not femmes.

“Baby, one thing though,” Mitch continued, “why are ya’ holding back? I’ve seen you in our sparring, you’re so much stronger than you’re letting on. Why ya pulling your punches?”

Tina glared.

“I’m winning, aren’t I?”

“Of course, but you could do so much more than just win. You could destroy these bitches, wipe em right off the map.”

“I’m not aiming to kill them, Mitch,” she grumbled, “I'm a fighter, not a murderer.”

“True,” he admitted, “but if we’re gonna convince the big leagues to sanction women's fighting, you gotta show them you’re as badass as the men.”

Tina shook her head.

“I got nothing to prove to those assholes. I fight my fights, I win, I move on. I’m not here to be anyone’s poster child.”

Mitch threw up his hands and walked away, leaving Tina alone. As she started to change, she thought about the upcoming week. It was Saturday, and in two days there would be a new episode of RAW on TV. She would be able to see her favorite, Shane McMahon, in action again. Ever since he’d joined forces with his sister to form the Alliance two weeks back, she’d been watching from the edge of her seat. Sure, she realized that if it came down to it, the Alliance would never put the WWE out of business, but it was fun to believe that Shane and his gang had a chance. Shane had always been so ambitious; it was one of her favorite traits about him. Shane McMahon saw what he wanted in life and reached out to take it, unafraid of who he might step on in the process. Sure, he’d been trapped in his father’s shadow for years, but he was his own man now, fierce, free, and fantastically sexy.

That night, she went home and fixed herself some stir fry over rice and sat down at the computer. Signing in, she logged onto the Yahoo chat and joined her friends, no her sisters, Billie Peterson (ShanesSweetie) and Nikki Montak, (NikkiShaneLover85) in discussing the latest dirt on Shane McMahon and the WWE. Her own name was “MacAttackGirl” and the three of them, the New Mean Street Posse, were joined in their love of wrestling and Shane O Mac. The internet, that wonderful invention, had opened a world of possibilities for communication and, while she had never met any of them in real life, they were dear to her and would trade emails and talk about their days on both Yahoo and AIM. Nothing was going to stop or break them and, however much they might piss off the other chat room members, they were there to stay and so was their Shane.

It’d been a good fight, and it was a good night, with Nikki and Billie in good spirits and excitement brewing over that week's upcoming RAW.

Later that night, when she crawled into bed, she thought she heard Shane calling to her in her sleep. It was just a faint cry, and she could barely make it out against the fog of whatever dream she was having, but it was there, his voice reaching through the night.

When she woke up, she could still hear it faintly ringing in her ears.

* * *

  
Tina was crushed.

The date was October 22nd, 2001. As Tina watched the evening news over dinner, she was horrified by the story she saw.

Shane McMahon, the only son of WWE Owner Vince McMahon, had been reported missing. It had been three years, almost to the day of his asserting himself against his father and suddenly he had disappeared. Currently, going strong in his efforts to overthrow his father’s company, he was last seen in a hotel in Kansas City, MO, and was due to arrive at the arena for the Monday Night RAW, but they never saw him. A search of the hotel and surrounding areas showed no signs of disturbance, as well as no signs of Shane, and the possibility of foul play was being investigated. The show had been postponed and more information would be made available as the story developed.

Her heart sank. Not her fave, not her Shane. She thought about logging onto the chatroom to discuss the news, but she was far too shocked to speak to anyone at that moment. To be honest, she was having trouble processing.

The thought struck her that the show was in Kansas City, in the Kemper Arena. The same arena Owen Hart had died in. Two WWE tragedies in the same city. It was a hell of a coincidence, or maybe the place was just cursed.

She shook the thought from her head. It wasn't a tragedy. Not yet. They'd find him. They had to.

Just then, the phone rang and she answered.

“Oh sweetie, I heard the news,” her mother said from the other end. “I’m so so sorry! Are you ok?”

Tina sighed and hung her head.

“Not remotely,” she replied. “I don’t know how to deal with this right now. I think I just need to bang my head against something. Or, maybe just my fists.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” her mom asked.

“No, not really,” she said. “I think I’m just going to go pound the bag for a bit. Blow off some steam.”

“Ok, well I’m here if you need me. Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

“Bye, hun.”

The phone disconnected and she hung up.

As planned, she gathered herself up, changed into some workout clothes, and, putting her gloves on, took out her frustrations on the gym bag. It started casually enough, with sadness hindering her swipes. But then, sadness turned to anger, and she began pounding harder and harder. Finally, anger turned to desperation, and her swings grew sloppy and frantic. It was though if she just punched hard enough, she could bring him back.

Eventually, she was overwhelmed. She fell onto the bag in tears. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t working. Her best bet was to just go to sleep and hope he was found by morning.

Found alive that was.

Taking her gloves off and bitterly throwing them aside, she headed upstairs, changed into her pajamas, and crawled into bed.

She hadn’t cried herself to sleep in ages and as she did so on that night, she prayed silently to a God she didn’t really believe in that this would be the exception to the rule.

Deep down, she was afraid it wouldn’t be.

That night, she had a dream.

She dreamed she was in a lush garden, surrounded by mists, flowers, and greenery. It was a beautiful place that looked like a cross between a jungle clearing and an island getaway, yet not quite either of those things. Walking around the garden, she admired the flowers and noticed a bungalow perched above her, built into a tree. It was all so wonderful, although she didn’t know why she was there. Then, while she was still perusing the garden, out of the mists walked Shane McMahon. He appeared unharmed and was smiling. He held out his hand to Tina as if to beckon her. She took it, and as she did, he spoke soft and gentle words which were nothing like the persona she had grown used to for the past four years.

“Come with me,” he said, and he led her into the mist.

As the fog overtook her, she heard Shane’s ghostly voice speak a message.

“This is your story.”

She dreamed no more that night.

* * *

  
Tina was trying to cope.

It had been two months since Shane’s disappearance, and no trace of him had been found. No body had been discovered, and while there was still a chance that he would turn up, hope was in short supply. The WWE had taken a three-week hiatus while the McMahon Family sorted themselves out. Shane had been the driving force in the WCW/ECW Alliance and without him, the faction was missing its leader. However, it hadn’t mattered as, when the WWE returned to TV, Stephanie and her parents buried the hatchet, merging the two organizations and combining their resources. It was a strong show of solidarity by the fractured family, but one built from tragedy. The investigation was still ongoing, but every day that passed, it grew less and less likely that the story would have a happy ending. By this point, there was serious talk about him being dead and even the dirt sheets had stopped discussing the matter in their daily news.

But the Posse hadn’t stopped talking about it.

Tina, Nikki, and Billie were all in mourning and were dealing the best they could, turning to each other in sorrow. Nikki frequently discussed her family and how they’d grown unbearable to live with and their shitty treatment of her was reaching critical mass. Billie had fallen into a deep depression and talked about suicide and “disappearing”.

Tina, meanwhile, had thrown herself fully into her budding MMA career.

Before Shane vanished, Tina had fought three fights on the MMA circuit. She won all three, but people always remarked that she wasn’t fighting to her full potential. Mitch had constantly nagged on her about how she was holding back and taking it easy on the women she faced.

No longer.

In the two fights since the incident, Tina was fighting with a fury few had ever seen before. She was like a woman possessed in there, punching and kicking ferociously and without relent. Her opponents didn’t stand a chance, and soon she was being hailed as the face of the sport for her gender. If her coach had wanted her to cut loose, he’d certainly gotten his wish. Hell, if there was any silver lining to her new aggression, it was that Mitch was no longer using his wretched pet names for her, instead speaking to her in calm, respectful, hushed tones as though she was about to explode like a grenade at him at any moment.

In the ring, she was a demon.  
At home, she was grieving.

She’d sit in her kitchen, drinking hot tea and staring into space. Some nights she spent killing monsters on Final Fantasy X for PS2. The game had just come out that year and she found that virtually killing fiends was somewhat satisfying if a bit brainless. Other nights she’d spend online searching for old Shane stuff to reminisce with. However, most nights she just stared into space, daydreaming. She’d only ever had the chance to see Shane perform live once, but it had been memorable. Naturally, living in a decent-sized city, the WWE came to town from time to time and she sat ringside whenever it did, but in the 3 years that he was around Shane was never involved with the shows there. The most he had ever done was run commentary for Sunday Night Heat. It made her sad, Tina often wished she could see him from ringside at the Arco, but it just wasn’t to be. However, for her birthday, her parents had bought her tickets to attend WrestleMania X-Seven in Houston, TX. It was a long distance away, but that didn’t deter her and the show had been incredible, possibly the best show she had ever attended across all genres. From the TLC match to Chyna winning the title, and even in moments such as the Gimmick Battle Royale, the show was unbelievable. But most of all, she loved the McMahon vs McMahon Street Fight, and Shane had been spectacular, defeating his dad soundly and reuniting with his mom. It was the show of a lifetime and on those long, lonely nights since he vanished, she liked to reminisce about the electricity and energy in the air as Shane had climbed the ringpost and launched himself across the ring at his dad. Sitting in the crowd and seeing the way he moved was just unreal and if he was handsome on TV, in person he was breathtaking.

Now, with those experiences behind her, all she had left were the memories.

She hoped it would be enough to suffice until she had closure.

* * *

  
Tina was dreaming.

She was having a dream that she was floating in space above a great city.

The city didn’t look like anything from the US though. Hell, it didn’t look like it was from Earth. It frankly looked like something out of a video game - Final Fantasy X to be exact. It reminded her of Zanarkand before its destruction with its towering, rounded steel spires and futuristic, otherworldly design.

She could tell it was a dream. And as she floated around the air above the city, she saw ghostly figures pass her by. Some looked human, while others looked like demons. They all passed her by without notice until one last figure approached her. He stared right into her eyes and held out his hand.

That figure looked like Shane McMahon.

“Come with me,” he told her.

She took his outstretched hand and he smiled.

“This is your story,” he said, as he pulled her off into the night.

As the dream ended, the night turned to white, and then to darkness.


	2. Traditional Family Ruthlessness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a strange land and place, among strange strange creatures, Shane McMahon must find away to make himself important to the powers that be. Luckily, he has the knowledge, wisdom, and business acumen of his father to draw upon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I finally decided I'm confident enough in Chapter 2 to actually post it. Don't be concerned if you're a bit confused by this chapter... that's sort of the point.
> 
> For anyone who absolutely must know ahead of time, yes that's an alien language that's being spoken. To make things a bit easier, alien languages will be in bold and italicised, just so you know you aren't, like, having a stroke while reading. I apologize in advance to Dyslexics, I'm working on making the story more reader friendly, but some amount of alien speak is going to occur. More will be learned later. I've tried to make as much sense of it as I can for the moment, but this is still mostly exposition stuff. I have an entire dang world in my head and I'm having trouble putting it on paper where people other than myself can see it.
> 
> Also, as evidenced by this chapter, the POV will shift from chapter to chapter. The name listed in the opening line will tell you whose chapter it is.

Shane was nervous. 

He’d only gained his status as a low-level Coordinator two cycles ago and, as of yet, hadn’t contributed anything of real importance. In the world of **_sa Heig’on a Manu_** , coordinators were much like wrestling or boxing promoters had been on Earth, and in a way, he was finally in a position he was meant for. It had been years since he’d arrived, somewhere between four and five if he had to guess, and ever since then he’d been working his ass off to get noticed, appreciated, and frankly, promoted. He wasn’t keen on the environment, and he wasn’t there willingly, but it was the only life he had left, so he would be damned if he wasn’t going to succeed in it. **_Sa Heig’on a Manu,_** or “The Arena of Fighting” was a fighting circuit in the 9th Era of the Gorosian Empire, and while it certainly wasn’t the place he’d ever intended on ending up, he was determined to make the most of the opportunity that’d been offered him. But, if he wanted to do so, he’d have to wow his supervisors. He hadn’t yet, but he hoped to change that soon, and as he sat there in the barely padded chair of the meeting room, he couldn’t help but be a bit scared. He knew he was lucky to be promoted from Assistant to Coordinator in the first place; he also knew that he would die before going back to being an Assistant. The term “assistant” sounded innocent enough, but it was still a form of slavery and, frankly, he hadn’t been too fond of the stuff his former master wanted assistance with. 

A shudder spread through Shane’s body at the thought before he purged it from his mind. 

_No,_ he thought, _focus. You can do this. You’re a McMahon, put on a fucking show._

The leading coordinator of the meeting called for the meeting to commence. 

“Attend,” he said loudly, clapping his hands together, “Attend.” 

The group calmed down. 

“Good. Now that you are all here, as you all know, the Greatest Arena Tournament went well, with 5098 emerging as our inaugural champion. The Supreme Leader has decided that the champion is to be transferred to an auxiliary role as a promotional asset until further notice. Naturally, this is expected to lead to a loss of viewership. The Arena of Fighting needs a new star. I am opening the discussion to advice.” 

A murmur spread across the room before Shane heard one of his peers speak up. 

“If it pleases, I wish to advise,” the being stated. 

“You may advise,” the leader said. 

“I have heard tales of an emerging warlord in the badlands of VyraG’kon,” he explained, “he is rumored to be extremely skilled in combat but is of great reason and should be able to leverage into our needs.” 

The others nodded in approval as did the leader. 

“Advice heard and noted,” the leader replied. “Anyone else?” 

A beautiful female with long black tendrils spoke up next. 

“If it pleases, High-Master,” she remarked. 

“You may advise,” the answer came. 

“Ixxon is holding its global defense pageant this cycle, High-Master. Using promotional tactics during the transmission may lead to a greater audience due to the crossover effect.” 

Another communal nod of approval. 

“Advice heard and noted,” the leader said once more, “Any other ideas? Any other advice on where to best obtain new competitors?” 

There was a silence as nobody else spoke up. 

_Well,_ Shane thought to himself, _It’s now or never. Time to make Vince proud._

“If it pleases,” Shane spoke up, trying his hardest to sound confident, “High-Master. I wish to advise” 

The group looked shocked as Shane spoke up. 

_Oh shit,_ he thought silently, _maybe I’m too new to advise_?

The High-Master looked intrigued and granted Shane permission to advise. 

Shane took a deep breath, trying to remember all the proper protocol and speech patterns for addressing the group. There was a specific way you had to talk to these people for the devices they were wearing to pick up what you were saying. You sounded like an idiot while doing so, but he knew he had one chance to get this right, he had to do so. 

Shane began, “There have been reports of other arena circuits starting up or possibly thriving in the other outlying regions, High-Master.” 

“Yes,” the leader replied, “We are aware of them. Speak your advice.” 

“High-Master, if it pleases, I advise using the assets of the **_Heig’on a Manu_** to remove talent from the lesser organizations, consolidating their fighters into our organization. This will both remove the lesser circuits from competition in viewership as well as extending our own reach in the process.” 

As he finished speaking, he could practically hear the crickets chirping. Then, the group leader responded. 

“Certainly, you do not suggest paying these fighters?” 

“Of course not, High-Master,” Shane replied firmly, “but leverage may easily be applied as needed. These beings already have the desire to compete, it would be in their best interest to do so where the glory lies.” 

A loud murmur overtook the group this time. Shane was holding his breath. Whatever, whoever they were, his dad’s tactic of territory consolidation was unheard of to them. Vincent Kennedy McMahon may have been a genius in the 20th century, but maybe his family’s penchant for ruthless business tactics wasn’t appreciated here. Actually, he’d known that going in but had hoped that someone in the chain of command would appreciate the sentiment of the Monday Night Wars.

Eventually, one of the other Coordinators spoke up. 

“Tell us, young one, this consolidation? Where is the honor or glory in destroying the other circuits? Is not competition good for the sport?” 

Shane released the breath he was holding. He’d expected that response. Despite their dealings in slavery, the locals still had a sense of honor. Luckily, he was Vince McMahon’s son and honor wasn’t quite as important to him, at least, not the idea of honoring one’s competition.

He continued, “The honor and glory go to the victor of the war, fellow coordinators. Much like in the tournament itself, there can only be one true champion. The glory of conquering the lesser organizations will add to the reputation and honor of the **_Heig’on_** , spreading our reach to all the outlying territories. The viewers of those opposing circuits will be forced to watch our fights to fulfill their need for entertainment, in return boosting our viewership. As well, the viewers of the companies we take over will hold a special interest in the fighters from their region, spreading the word to their peers and further expanding our hold on those areas. Finally, by displaying the ruthlessness of a true Arena competitor, we will intimidate any potential rivals, ensuring our singular hold on the industry for a long time to come.” 

The group was looking at him dumbfounded. 

“Uh, if it pleases, of course,” he added. 

Suddenly, the High-Master leading the group turned away and headed into the corner. He spoke for several moments into a communicator before returning to the table. 

He spoke loudly, his words aimed directly at Shane and the approval clear in his voice, “Congratulations are to be placed upon you. The Supreme Coordinator himself has accepted your advice. Measures will be taken immediately to implement them. Tell us, human, do you have a name that we may celebrate?” 

Shane’s mouth dropped open. He knew better than telling them his real name, but he’d only been a coordinator for a few cycles and hadn’t been bothered to choose a new one for himself. Hell, he wasn’t even considered a true master yet, so what was the point of bothering? Slaves were, by default, stripped of their names upon arrival and while he hadn’t entered the Arena quite at the bottom of the food chain, he still had been given a miserable designation instead of a proper name. He hadn’t even tried to come up with a new one in the meantime. As far as he was concerned, he was Shane Brandon McMahon, son of Vince McMahon and wife to the most beautiful woman in the world, Marissa. There was no need for a secondary identity, even though the one he cherished had been severed. In his mind, he was Shane and he’d always be Shane. Anything else was a lie. So sitting there in a meeting room, being asked for a name he was forbidden to speak, he had nothing to give in response.

“I - I don’t have a name,” he told the group sadly. 

“Young one,” the meeting coordinator spoke, “The Supreme Designer has smiled upon you this day, for you have been granted permission to take one. Choose wisely, for if your plan is the astounding success you suggest it will be, that name will go into a place of legend amongst the Great Arena Masters. To all who are attended here this day, you are dismissed. Thank you, and Good Travels.” 

Everyone in the room began to bustle about and talk amongst themselves, preparing to leave. As they filed out of the room, however, Shane lingered behind. He was excited but nervous. Did they just say he could pick a name? As in an actual name? Also, did they use the term “Master”? Was he going to be a Master now as well?

Holy shit, that was cool. Maybe Vinny Mac’s ideas were brilliant there after all.

After a quick look around, he too gathered his belongings and started to leave. As he did, he found himself approached by the High-Master who stood in his path. 

“Human,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly, “be cautious of this newfound glory. If your plan should fail, it will be lost quickly. However, if it succeeds, I believe great things will come to you.” 

“ _Yo’Tu-Vaa’Dan_ ” Shane replied, dropping his head into a bow. 

The High-Master then stepped out of his way, allowing Shane to exit. 

As the former WWE Heir walked through the metal corridors of the compound, he felt much less nervous than when he walked in. He now knew just why he’d been selected for his position in the first place. He was a McMahon, he knew how to run a promotion, dammit. 

He let himself remember for a moment that, yes, he was a McMahon, but the concepts he’d suggested at the meeting weren’t his own. He’d only been a teenager when his dad dismantled the territory system, and while he understood how it was done and the ideas behind it, the truth was that most of his good ideas were borrowed from his father. Honestly, despite having a knack for business, if it weren’t for years of shadowing Vince, he’d never have gotten as far as he had. Even in the distant future, far across the galaxy and long after his family was gone, he still owed them so much. 

Pausing for a moment in the doorway to the cramped room he called his own, he smiled at the memory of his dad, sister, wife, and the rest of his friends and family he’d left behind. He had no idea what happened to them after he left, and no way to find out. Plus, he was almost afraid to ask, knowing what he knew about Earth’s fate. But at that moment, in the doorway, he allowed himself to remember and feel them close once more. 

“Thanks, pops,” he told the image in his mind, “Even now, you’re still a genius.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There. Another chapter down.
> 
> Sorry if the slavery thing squicks any of you, the entire premise of this story was born of a dream crossover of WWE and the Tsunkatse episode or Star Trek Voyager (which, funnily enough, was an episode specifically designed to promote the original broadcast of Smackdown on UPN). As such, yeah, the fighters and workers of the circuit are being held there against their will. You'll just have to deal with it to continue with the story. Sorry. I will try to make it as palatable as possible.
> 
> Oh, and a bit of a spoiler, "Yo'Tu-Vaa'dan" translates to "Yes High-Master", In case any of you were wondering.


	3. What? Where? When?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tina, having been abducted by nasty looking alien creeps, finds herself in a brand new world where she's to be forced into fighting as a futuristic arena slave. Everything is so bizarre and sci-fi... which only makes sense when she finds out she's halfway across the galaxy, over 30,000 light years from home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now to get into the juicy stuff!
> 
> This is another Tina chapter, so sorry about that. As I said, it did start out as a dream, so there's bound to be OC stuff. Anyway I once again apologize for the alien space talk, I'll put translations at the end. Know that, for the moment you aren't supposed to know what those words mean because frankly, *Tina* doesn't know what they mean.

Tina was confused.

One moment, she had been in her gym, training for her upcoming fight.

The next, she was in what reminded her of a closed tanning booth. She couldn’t see what was going on around her, but she could make out some muffled voices.

They didn’t sound human.

She wasn’t sure how long she remained in that pod, but when the pod opened, she found herself face to face with what could only be described as alien creatures. Two of them had a slight resemblance to walking, bipedal triceratops, except they had four arms and six eyes, four in front and one on either side pointing outward and their skin was a shade of purple with sickly green splotches. Also, on their head, arms, and legs were curved purple spikes, adding to their menacing appearance. The other three creatures weren’t nearly as interesting, simply appearing as swamp thing’s rejected cousins. However, she was distracted from all of their appearances by a throbbing ache in the back of her neck where her skull met her spine. She tried to reach around to feel the area and when she did, she felt a slight stickiness. She looked at her fingers and sure enough, there was blood on them; Not much, but enough to prove to her she’d been injected with something.

_Injected, or possibly implanted,_ she thought silently. She was so confused.

“What the...” she muttered to herself. She was having a dream.

At least, she hoped it was a dream. Whatever it was was weird, and these walking dinos were using some sort of words she didn’t understand. It sounded a bit like Chinese, maybe? But not quite. They sounded like they were giving orders, but she didn’t understand them, so she couldn’t follow them.

Suddenly, two of the dino men grabbed her arms and put them into shackles.

“ ** _Manu Dog’tu Bar’hy_** ,” one of the creatures barked. “ ** _Human, SolTerra Nuz’tu_** ”

“Hey!” she cried out, trying to fight them. She struggled and kicked her feet, only to have them grabbed, shackled, and chained as well.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!?!” She shouted. At that, one of the dinos swiftly backhanded her in the face, knocking her to the ground.

“ ** _Ser’vaa im do sa Hei’gon!_** ” he growled at her. She had no idea what that meant but decided to comply anyway. There wasn’t much she could do at that point, being bound and all.

She looked around at her surroundings. The room she was in was grungy and dirty, with bright white lights embedded in the wall. The pod she had just come from was one of three in the room and extending from all three pods were long black and silver cables that appeared to lead out of the room through the far wall. There wasn’t a single window in the room and, despite there being three pods in there, she seemed to be the only new arrival. It reminded her of one of those Star Wars or Star Trek cargo bays. But what was she doing in a cargo bay? Unless... was she the cargo?

_Oh shit,_ she thought.  
 _That’s exactly what this looks like!  
Am I some sort of space slave???_

As she was led away by the dinomen, she once more found herself praying to a God she was even less sure now existed.

_Please. Please let this be a dream_

_Please._

* * *

Tina was getting worried.

After being led away by the dinos, she was forced into what looked like a medical bay, this room lit up in sharp shades of pink-tinted silver. There were several beds spaced out across the floor with sidebars attached, and she was aggressively shoved towards one. Once on the table, it raised about a foot, lifting her to what she guessed was a more accessible height, and another of those horned dinosaur creatures swung the sidebar across her torso. Aliens of differing varieties worked over her, all using that same language she heard the dinos used – at least, it sounded like the same language. As far as she knew they could be speaking Slavic, she wouldn’t have understood it any better. As she lay on the table, she had probes and devices pressed against her. Some tingled, some hurt. None were altogether pleasant. Finally, a gun-like device injected something new into her neck, just like she suspected had occurred before, only this time on the side of the neck, rather than the back.

“Ow!” she exclaimed. Now her neck was throbbing in two places.

The one alien above her bent down to gaze at her. He let out a shaky hissing sound before pressing some buttons on the bar covering her torso.

Then everything faded to black.

When she woke up however long later, a human male, appearing to be of Asian descent, in a jumpsuit was waiting for her.

“Good morning, **_Manu-9174_**. How is your feeling this day?’

She shook her head a bit to try and clear the cobwebs.

“What did you call me?” she asked groggily.

“ ** _Manu-9174_**. It is your designation. How are you feeling this day?”

“Like I got hit by a truck-” Tina stopped. This man was speaking English. Well, weird English. She looked around and realized she was in a sort of army barracks type room, with beds built into the wall. She had been lying on one of the bottom beds, and the man speaking to her was in what looked like a chair made of smooth coral. Also, with horror, she realized that her gym clothes had been stripped of her and replaced with a jumpsuit identical to the one the Chinese man was wearing, silver and form-fitting with sky blue accents. For a moment she felt violated and ashamed that she’d had her clothes forcibly changed before she realized that her possible nudity was the least of her concerns.

She rubbed her hands over her chest and along her thighs, trying to get a good feel of it but, strangely enough, it didn’t quite feel like fabric. It was closer to a second skin, plastered onto her with… nope, there were no actual places where it was fastened or closed. It was like someone had magically poured her into it – or poured it around her. She wondered if there was any way to take it off to use the bathroom, but as she looked around the room, she saw no toilets present. Also, she didn’t feel like she needed to go. Hell, her whole damn body felt weird, like it wasn’t the same one she’d possessed the day before. Her entire form and shape felt foreign to her and she had no earthly idea why.

Then again if her hunch was correct, “Earth” had nothing to do with her predicament.

“What the hell is going on here?!” she demanded, “Who are you and where am I?”

The man placed a gentle hand on Tina’s chest to calm her.

“I apologize in the strangeness of your circumstances. I am **_Soto-9043_** , and I have been instructed for debriefing you in your new life. Do not be alarmed. You will not be harmed before it is time.”

“Before it’s time??? The fuck does that mean??”

The man pressed his hand down on her chest. She knew it was likely meant to be a calming gesture, but she was far from calm.

He continued speaking.

“You have been selected by the Vash-Yvvara for participating in the Arena of Fighting. You are as to be trained in advanced combat skills for performing in the Arena in fighting for Masters. Be aware, escape is not a choice. This is life now. You are to be expected in performing, or you will face disposal. There is no alternative. Perform, and you are rewarded with your subsequent success. Fail, and death is to occur.”

Tina gulped. She was beginning to think this wasn’t a dream. Still, she needed answers. If this was her new life, she wasn’t gonna take it lying down with some stranger’s hand on her sternum.

“Ok. I’ve got questions,” she began. “First, those guys with the horns, the triceratops looking fellas. Are they the Vash-Yvvara? What kind of bullshit language is everyone here speaking? Also, what do ‘Manu’ and ‘Soto’ mean?”

**_Soto-9043_** shushed her, putting his fingers to her lips. Tina hated being shushed and, while she realized it was meant to soothe her, it only pissed her off.

“It is acceptable. The beings you did see earlier that resembled prehistorics are Gorosians. They are a dominant species in this sector. Gorosian is the main language in this part of the galaxy also. However, as of now, I am speaking in language of Mandarin. You are hearing that through a universal translator that has implanted in your neck.” The Chinese man motioned towards where she had been injected in the side of her neck. “Not always does the translator function optimally. This is the reason for my speech. When translating Gorosian, the translator should perform more better. Also, Manu is a reference to your status as fighter, as _**Soto**_ means I am a guide. The translators, or **_Rahn’jk-ood’nimat_** , function with one language at once. Manu is in Gorosian, making it not translate.”

Tina nodded slowly. She was starting to understand, barely, although something told her if she was going to be there for any length of time, she was going to need to learn the language properly. On one hand, she wanted to be out of there as soon as possible, but on the other, her brain was already throwing around ideas of how she could best survive in her new, hostile environment.

“That explains one implant,” she replied, “what’s in the back of my neck?”

**_Soto-9043_** nodded.

“The back of neck device is a biotech modifier. It is what allows you in breathing the air and surviving the environments of this compound. Every being at this place has one, it is a peak of Gorosian technology. The modifier will protect you from undue disease and harm while allowing for your adapting to this location.”

His broken English made sense enough. She obviously had no clue about the technology of where she was now, but she suspected, based on its location at the base of her skull, that the biotech device was somehow tapping into her nervous system. She had no clue how it might work though, perhaps some sort of nanotechnology re-writing her anatomy? That might be it. If these alien freaks could teleport her off Earth to… wherever this fresh hell was, then they must be far more advanced than 21st-century humans. Or could there be humans there as well? This **_Soto_** chap, he was human, maybe there were humans in space as well. Either way, if the implant jacked into her spine was re-programming her body on a molecular or cellular level, it would explain why her body felt so strange. Whatever that thing was doing to her, in a sense, she was no longer quite human. Still, she was grateful for it, at least it allowed her to stay alive in the bizarre hellhole she was now trapped in, wherever it was.

Whenever it was…

She decided she should probably ask.

“Okay, what about the time and place. Where and when am I?”

“You are in a Vash-Yvvara compound in the Earth Year 2760,” came the answer. “In BasGorosa time, it is Revolution nine mark twenty-one fifty-six. Your location is in the second quadrant, approximately 36,000 light-years from Earth. All you need to know is that. Come now, it is time to begin the training.”

_Soto-9043_ rose from his chair and took Tina by the wrist. For a moment, she thought about kicking the man’s teeth in. Whatever world she’d entered, it wasn’t friendly, and frankly, she wasn’t feeling friendly herself. However, if it was the 28th century, she had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn’t going to survive long without behaving. After all, if there was some weird device controlling her biological functions, what was stopping those alien dickweeds from shutting it off? No, best to play along. If she had any hope of getting out of there, she’d need to live long enough to do so. Besides, this “ ** _Soto_** ” guy seemed nice enough, no need to rip him apart, and if what he said about an “Arena of Fighting” was true, there’d be plenty of opportunities to vent her aggression later. So, she complied and allowed herself to be led off to parts unknown. As she was, she took the time to look around at her surroundings. Everything was so sci-fi and future-tech, with molded walls made of silver, purple, and green metal, black grated floors, and recessed lighting that was bright enough to show the way, but did nothing to make the areas it lit feel warm and homey. Everything was hard and cold and steel. It really was like something out of Star Trek or Star Wars, probably closer to Star Wars. She wished she was someplace as comfortable as the USS-Enterprise.

Also, time travel was involved, she knew that much, and wherever she was, it was far far from Earth. On top of that, she was a slave. She hadn’t been wrong about that.

She wondered what her family was going through back home. They were probably worried sick.

Tina thought of her mother and how heartbroken she’d be if Tina died. In her mind, she decided she’d do whatever it took to get back there.

Although, as she was escorted through the dark corridors of the compound and saw all of the aliens standing around holding what she suspected were weapons, her hope faded.

As she passed by a pair of those swamp-creature looking beings that, thankfully, only smelled half as bad as they looked, she made a decision then and there to behave.

_You’ll get through this,_ she told herself.

_Life is a fight. This is just a new battlefield._

She let herself be led through a pair of sliding metal bay doors and into a large white-walled room, this one very brightly lit with a grey padded floor, clearly built for training.

_Here we go._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Manu - "Fighting" (Fighter)  
> Soto - "Guiding" (Guide)  
> Manu Dog'tu Bar'hy - "Fighting #9174"  
> Human, SolTerra Nuz'Tu - "Human, Earth 21" or "Human, 21st century Earth"  
> Ser'vaa im do sa Heig'on - "Save it for the Arena"  
> Rahn’jk-ood’nimat - "Language Re-Writer" aka the technical term for the universal translators. 
> 
> Thanks for reading... all three of you who keep coming back...


	4. The First Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tina experiences her first fight in the Heig'on a Manu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm back.
> 
> Energized by a great day, I'm posting another chapter. Not much you need to know here, other than a heads up that I'm trash at writing action. I can't fight to save my life so writing action is difficult and comes off awkward. To anyone who is a trained fighter, I apologize for any inaccuracies in this chapter. Please forgive.
> 
> Oh, and something I should probably mention. I know I'm leaving most of the alien speech up to interpretation, but in my readthroughs, I usually pronounce "Heig'on" as "High-gone" despite it not being spelled that way at ALL. I know, bad writing on my part but I'm so used to writing it that way that, if I tried to change it now, I'd likely fail and just keep spelling it the same. You can say it however you want though, but that's how my brain intended it to be pronounced.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Tina was in the mood to fight.

It was her first fight in the **_Heig’on a Manu_** , and she was prepared. She had trained for a full week before getting there, but it hadn’t mattered. She didn’t bother paying attention to the lessons, she was already a skilled fighter, what was the point? So, when the trainers tried to show her some strange and bizarre new techniques, she showed them who was boss, taking each of them down in turn with little effort.

And now, it was time to properly smash heads – whatever shape they might come in.

She was ready to fight, and not just her opponent. Somewhere along the way, the guards and the powers that be had decided she was dangerous – funny that – and most of her time was spent in chains. It was disgusting, chained up like a dog, but she knew that’s what those pricks with the horns and slime felt was necessary.

And they were right. She was dangerous.

She never acted out physically, not after the first time at the pods, but she wasn’t exactly willing to comply with their operation either. Every moment of every day she searched for a way out. Any peek or glimpse into her surroundings she took, surveying the situation for an angle of escape. She’d recognized quickly she was in a compound, some sort of outpost in space. The gravity… it wasn’t quite right; her steps were a bit too light. She wondered if it was artificial gravity or just the gravity of whatever planet she was on. Was artificial gravity even a thing? Truth be told, if those slave-driving monsters had perfected biotechnology and universal translators, then artificial gravity would probably be simple in comparison.

It didn’t matter. She wasn’t sticking around. By whatever means necessary she was getting back to that pod bay and going home, riding the device back the way she came. There had to be a way to do so, she was certain.

But for the moment, it was fight night.

Shackled and chained, she was shoved along the corridors towards her destination. She didn’t resist, what was the point with that much hardware on, but she kept her eyes up and alert. And as she made her way through the building, she couldn’t help but notice the other slaves that surrounded her.

They all seemed so timid and meek. Ever since she’d arrived, so many of them looked the same, regardless of what weird anatomy and species they were. Eyes down, supplicant, and subservient. Some had the spark of defiance in their eyes, probably other gladiators although she couldn’t be sure, but most of them looked like they’d been beaten into submission one too many times. The ones that didn’t have their eyes down, their faces were blank, devoid of emotion like the hope had been wrung out of them like an old sponge, leaving them parched and dry and without feeling.

Fuck that. She decided that she would never be like that.

She was led down several nearly identical hallways until she reached a large open area with a bay door and two heavily armed, beastly-looking guards posted there. They were both the dinosaur guys, who she now learned were the Gorosians. They gave a salute, nodding their head and outstretching one of their upper arms with a fist.

Through her translator, she heard one of them bark, “The arena awaits!”

Her escorts said nothing and as the door slid open, she was led into a dimly lit tunnel with another door at the other end. This one was far different from the other halls and walkways, the walls looked like they were lined with unlit bulbs and colorful designs.

 _Probably some sort of entrance tunnel,_ she mused.

She was taken to a bench near the end of the tunnel and pushed onto it. There, she was ordered by the guards to hold out her arms. She did, and her chains were removed, with her leg irons soon to follow. As she sat there, she rubbed her wrists, and rotated her ankles, working the kinks out.

_Much better._

The guards didn’t leave, instead standing aside as a lizard-looking dude approached her. His head was bowed, much like the slaves she saw earlier, and she realized he was another one of the poor broken souls who had been there too long. However, when he reached her, his head raised, and he pulled out a piece of translucent film with writing on it. The writing was lit up, shining through the page from the side facing him. If she knew how, she’d probably be able to read it from the backside, but the lettering on the sheet was completely foreign to her.

 _Probably more of that Gorosian crap,_ she figured.

The lizard slave spoke to her, his tone clear, yet timid.

“Fighter of the Arena,” he spoke, his words sounding in her ears as English, “today, you are to fight your first match for the glory of the Arena of Fighting. This is to be an exhibition fight, no death permitted. The rules are as follows – No killing, no targeting biotechnological implants, no intentional blinding, no targeting of cranial attachments, no targeting of sexual organs. Cheating of any kind will not be tolerated. Your goal is to be the first fighter to incapacitate your opponent. The coordinators of the Arena of Fighting wish you glory in your first battle.”

She listened to the rules of the fight. It all sounded pretty standard, no eye pokes, no hair pulling, no low blows… except…

“Uh, sorry… whatever your name is,” she piped up, “if I’m not facing a human, and I doubt I am, how the fuck am I to know where the sexual organs are? Are you gonna give me a hint or do I just have to guess?”

There was sass evident in her voice, and as she finished speaking, the lizard alien’s eyes went wide. He didn’t answer though as, from out of nowhere, the guard standing to her right punched her directly in the kidney with one of his lower arms, causing her to double over in pain and the lizard guy to flinch sharply backward in fear.

“SLAVE!” the guard growled, “Your attitude will NOT be tolerated. You will do as you are told, or you will be punished severely!”

She curled inward, holding her side. Those fuckers hit hard.

She didn’t respond, moaning in pain. She was going to be pissing blood after that shot. Also, perhaps mouthing off before a fight wasn’t the best idea. Her side hurt like hell now and she knew it would put her at a disadvantage for her match.

Teeth gritted through the pain, she gave in to the pressure to submit and replied, “Yes, master.”

It seemed to satisfy the guard and the next few minutes were spent in silence, just her, the pain in her kidney, and the guards there in the poorly lit tunnel.

Then, without warning, the lights in the tunnel blazed to life, flashing and spinning around her. She held up her hand to block them, their dazzling display practically blinding.

This time, she only thought the smartass remark that sprung to mind.

_Holy shit, I thought there was no blinding allowed!_

A moment after the lights came on, the door of the tunnel slid open and she got her first glimpse into the fighting area. From what she could see, it was grey and blue, brightly lit (although not as brightly as the tunnel) with a barely padded floor and large ridged sections formed into the walls. She listened as she heard the crowd noise. They weren’t roaring, exactly. Just your standard pre-match excitement. She was a bit surprised at the volume of the noise though. It sounded like a large crowd, far bigger than she expected. Sure, it was her first fight, and her first time in that part of the compound, but how big was the place anyway?

Still, the fight awaited her, and she began to stand up to enter the arena. She wasn’t even halfway to her feet when the guard, the same one who punched her, shoved her back down onto the bench.

“Wait,” he commanded.

She didn’t argue. She sat there, mentally preparing to clobber whatever was put in her way.

Then she heard an announcer call out.

“Introducing first, from SolTerra 21, our newest recruit, the human, Fighting-9174!”

That was her cue, but she stayed seated. She didn’t need any more abuse. She did find it odd that she was announced as “Fighting” instead of “Fighter”, but she figured it was just another translation error. Regardless she awaited her orders, and after a second, the guard commanded her once more.

“Go,” he growled.

 _Such a way with words,_ she thought, and, getting up from the bench, she headed out into the arena.

As she emerged from the tunnel, her heart jumped. There were so many beings, thousands of aliens in the stands, and they were all booing her.

_Guess I’m the heel in this fight._

But, as she looked around at the fans, she couldn’t help but notice something was off with them. They were ever so slightly… see-through. Like holograms.

 _Of course,_ she realized, _holographic fans._

They weren’t in the arena; they were just being projected there. Or was she being projected to them? Likely both.

Also, she realized that the tunnel she came from was one of two in the arena. There was a matching one on the other side, equally as bright. That one, she assumed, contained her opponent.

_Hmm. Dual entrance tunnels. They have style._

The announcer, a tall white alien with black hanging bits down his back, continued with the introduction.

“And, her opponent, from Tin’uVak’mi, the Spectacular Bending Brutalist, Fighting-7256!”

She turned towards the opposing tunnel, and out came the being who she was about to destroy. He, well she assumed it was a he, was another lizard creature, same as the being who had read her the rules. Only, this one didn’t have his eyes down or head bowed. This one was tall, built, and seriously pissed off, and as he made his way closer to her, she realized just how tall he was.

He had at least nine inches on her, if not more, and was half a shoulder wider on either side. It was going to be a fight, but nothing she couldn’t handle.

She moved to face him down (or rather up) in the center of the ring, and as the announcer left the fighting area, she put on her game face.

“All right, bitch,” she growled at the lizard man, “let’s get busy.”

A buzzer sounded to signify the start of the match, and she charged.

Putting her shoulder down, she ran at him for a spear, only instead of her shoulder connecting, he effortlessly dodged her attack, moving behind her and tripping her right leg from behind. She stumbled but regained her balance, more embarrassed at the action than hurt. She spun back around to face him with eyes blazing. The lizard just stood there, at ease, his black beady eyes looking… was he amused?

With a swift right jab, she threw a punch directly at his face. Again, he dodged, his slender skull spinning halfway around in a wild manner, causing her shot to miss without the asshat even moving his body. She didn’t have time to recover before he slapped her in the face, his webbed hand cracking into her jaw.

It hurt. It felt more like a punch than a slap, and once more she was nearly taken off her feet. But she recovered and moved away to regain her senses.

Again, the alien looked amused.

 _This son of a bitch is toying with me!_ She realized.

Now she was completely pissed off.

Focusing all her energy, she went for him, kicking at his midsection with four precise, stiff kicks. This time, she found her mark… but the lizardman didn’t even seem phased. If anything, kicking him hurt her foot. She kicked at him again, a right high kick this time, only to have him grab her foot midway and hold it there with his left “hand”.

He held her, her foot nearly at her eye level, and she swore she saw the bastard smile.

Suddenly, he skewed his elbow upwards, seemingly turning it inside out, wrenching her knee horribly in the process. The pain was intense, something had definitely torn, and it was only made worse when, without letting go of her now injured leg, he pushed her down and brought his knee into her midsection, striking her directly in the kidney that the guard had punched earlier.

She went down, the wind completely taken out of her. She clutched her side, the agony of her kidney so great it drowned out the pain in her destroyed knee.

She couldn’t move. Everything was pain and she had the taste of blood and bile in her mouth as she writhed in agony. How had she misjudged this shit so bad?

She couldn’t get up, not even if she tried. Her knee wasn’t about to support her weight and as she tried to crawl away on her belly, she felt the alien commit one final indignity – he pinned her to the mat, stepping on her back and holding her down.

She was finished, unable to crawl or really move, and after a few moments, the buzzer sounded ending the match.

She had lost. Not just lost, she had been humiliated.

And the crowd was loving it. They were cheering loudly as the lizardman took his foot off her and was declared the victor. From her spot on the ground, she craned her neck up to look at him.

“That,” she gasped out loud, “was embarrassing.”

In the haze of her pain, she saw two alien slaves, one being the same one who had read her the rules, and the other a new one resembling a horned, green, forest creature. They rushed over to her and picked her sorry ass off the ground, half carrying, half dragging her back into the tunnel she’d entered through.

As soon as they exited the other end of the tunnel, they were met by the Gorosian guards once more, the same ones that had dragged her in there to begin with. The one who struck her earlier looked very pleased with the outcome of the match.

_That sicko._

_He probably gets off on misery. Jerks off to torture every night._

The five of them continued to make their way through the hallways until they reached the medbay. It looked like a similar medbay to the one she’d been in after she arrived, but this one was smaller and looked better equipped. Practically thrown onto the exam table, she felt another of those gun-like devices push against her, this time into her temple.

“Wait, what are you- “ she tried to protest, but then everything went dark.

* * *

Tina was groggy.

When she woke up, her head was quite foggy, but she did her best to focus and come around. As she did, she realized she was once more in the barracks, once more in chains, and once more, **_Soto-9043_** was at her side.

“ ** _Manu_** , your first fight was not won, correct?” he asked in that same soft, soothing voice he’d used on her earlier.

At least he wasn’t laughing at her.

“That’d be it,” she said sitting up from the bed. As she did, she stopped.

She wasn’t in pain anymore. Her knee was healed, and her kidney didn’t hurt at all.

“Wait,” she questioned, “I was healed?”

She was confused but remained calm as the **_Soto_** nodded.

“ ** _Manua_** are to heal between the fights. It assists in entertaining of spectators. A good fight cannot be occurring if fighters are injured in entry.”

More of that broken translated English. But she understood well enough.

“So,” she began, “you’re saying that after every fight, I’m going to be healed? Is that how this works?”

The **_Soto_** nodded again.

“Yes. The **_Orpaha_** are designated in the healing of **_Manua_**. Every fight, conditional upon your survival, you are to be healed fully. This is the will of the Masters.”

_Wait, what? Conditional upon…_

“Wait,” she replied warily, “what do you mean ‘my survival’? Are you saying you have deathmatches here? Am I going to be fighting to the death?!”

She was getting worked up, and as he had before, he placed a gentle hand against her chest. She wasn’t having it, she swatted his hand away, and demanded an answer.

The **_Soto_** , however, didn’t respond with any sort of reciprocal anger. He remained calm, and his eyes betrayed a look of sadness.

“ ** _Manu-9174_** ,” he gently told her, “The fight this day was a **_Gontzo_** fight. Soon, you will be into **_Monto_** fights. **_Mara’gontzo_** , meaning ‘Fist of Damage’ and **_Mara’monto_** meaning ‘Fist of Destruction’. Learn these terms fully – your continued survival is depending on it.”

She swallowed hard. She was going to have to learn the way of things around there and fast. No more screwing around, she needed to learn how to fight aliens pronto.

“Right,” she said firmly, her mind made up, “I think I need more of that fancy, alien type training. When do we get on that?”

The **_Soto_** smiled. “When it is the time. For now, you are meant to eat.”

In any other situation, that would have excited her. Tina loved a big meal after a bout. But, as she’d found out, the only thing they had for food in the arena was a flavored grey custard-type substance. She’d been informed that it was synthetic in nature and designed specifically to match her biological nutrition requirements perfectly. They weren’t wrong, the slop filled her stomach, and she wasn’t hungry afterward, plus she always had energy despite only having one meal every day, but the taste? It was like someone had aimed for Vanilla Chai and missed, landing somewhere around slightly spiced yogurt. It was not at all pleasant, and at that moment, she wished she could just go to sleep.

“Do I have to eat?” she asked, only slightly whining.

The **_Soto_** replied, “You must. You will be brought as it is time.”

The Chinese man then got up from his stool and walked away, leaving her behind. She was a bit surprised, hadn’t he just said, “as it is time?” Didn’t that mean at that moment?

 _Apparently not,_ she thought, looking around at the other slaves in the barracks. Like the slaves she saw around, many of these too were very humbled and submissive.

Broken.

She was NOT going to be like them. She wouldn’t let it happen. She had too much fucking pride and would die before she was broken. There was a time and a place to be submissive and this wasn’t it.

She pulled her legs back up and laid back down on the bed. As she looked up at the bottom of the bunk above her, she wondered why the other slaves didn’t just kill each other before they got to the ring. They were all kept in the same barracks, right? If there were deathmatches, wouldn’t it be best to eliminate the heavy hitters ahead of time?

She looked once more at their downturned eyes and bowed heads.

As much as she hated it, she had a sneaking suspicion that she’d soon find out why those miserable souls were so… miserable.

“I have so much to learn,” she muttered to herself, keeping her voice low and hushed so nobody else could hear her. She still had no intention of staying there and even less intention of turning into a mindless drone, but she would need to learn the tactics, necessities, rules, and ways of her current existence if she was going to survive it.

Still, she wasn’t an idiot, and she was certain that, if she put her mind to it, she’d be more than capable of getting by in the hellhole she’d been forced into.

“So much to learn,” she repeated. “Good thing I’m a fast learner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I hope to get the next chapter up quicker after this. Fingers crossed for those of you still with me!


	5. The Era of Cathal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane McMahon, now going by the name of "Cathal", is an arena high-master and rising. Throwing aside his old Earth persona, he's determined to do whatever it takes to rise to the top of the Heig'on.
> 
> Unfortunately for him, he finds himself distracted by Tina (or, as he knows her, Manu-9174) and the fact that just looking at her photo makes him feel alarmingly human again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So did I mention this is a love story?
> 
> I know, I know, OFC love stories are the bane of this site's existence. But please remember that, as with most of my stories, this started as a dream from my POV so this is what you get. I've tried to make it as interesting as possible but it is what it is.
> 
> Also, I've made the executive decision that what was originally going to be this story will now be two stories with the first part being this (Vanished with the Dawn) and the second part picking up where the other pair of lovebirds show up. (It's not just an OFC/Shane love story, the second part involves a certain pair of Canadian Frenemies as the leads.) So, just know that this is still part 1, but the comments about how the story was dreamed in 2 parts is no longer true. This here is all one part and the second part won't come into play until the second story.
> 
> Don't worry. It will all make sense in time.

High-Master Cathal was going places.

Now a High-Master and rising, the man once known as “Shane McMahon” had become something of a sensation among the other Masters of the arena. He’d already come so far since his first days as a Coordinator, and even further than his lowly, miserable beginnings as an Assistant. He’d been making changes and tossing ideas around all in an effort to increase the glory of the Arena… while increasing his own status as well. After ending the territory system, so to speak, he’d introduced new concepts for promotional material, such as photoshoots, promos, and advertisement posters. For an organization that’d been around for about 20 revolutions by then, they were hopelessly out of their depth. No flash, no style. It was a wonder they survived long enough to scoop him. Even ECW, for all its bingo hall raggedness, had a better grip on how to put on a show than these guys did. Come to think of it, ECW had a better idea than his family’s primary rival WCW about how to put on a show, so that wasn’t the best comparison. Although, if he was being honest, the **_Heig’on_** was nearly at WCW levels of boring before he arrived, if his reviews of previous material were any indication. Maybe it was a good thing they didn’t have to worry about paying most of their workers.

The **_Heig’on a Manu_** functioned off primarily two types of workers: cheap labor and forced labor. The **_Oyv_** fell into the second category, with many of them coming from the process of scooping – stealing beings out of space-time from various planets across the galaxy. That’s how he had gotten there, taken long ago from Earth. The details and consequences of the process were messy, and when he’d found out just what being pulled that far across the cosmos entailed, he wished he hadn’t, but it was what it was. He was there now, that’s what mattered. In the eyes of his captors, he’d been “saved” not stolen, and in the cases where the Oyv were taken from other dead planets, they were viewed similarly. However, not all scoops strictly involved theft. Sometimes, beings were sold, poor creatures that for one reason or another had found themselves either in extreme debt or guilt. Some planets, such as ClumIxxon and LuptooMoq, had a policy of sending criminals to the Arena. With VyraG’kon, it was warriors who had lost their name through dishonorable acts. On VardJakka, being too far in debt to the global bank would cost you your freedom. But regardless of how they ended up there, the procedure upon arrival was the same: they were chained, stripped of their name and any clothing and personal effects, given a designation, and wrapped in a **_plunto'lagkfas_** (the Gorosian term for the hi-tech second-skin bodysuits that all arena slaves wore). Like some horrible prison uniform, every **_Oyv_** was put in one, with the bodysuits being forcibly wrapped around them while they were unconscious in their initial prep for service. They weren’t removable – not by the slaves anyway – and when they were torn or ripped in a match, the material was quickly mended without the slave taking it off. The **_Oyv_** – they came from nearly every possible walk of life, but in those silver and blue suits (or silver and gold for the higher-ranking Assistants) they all blended together.

Knowing what he knew by that point about how the **_Heig’on_** functioned, that was entirely the point.

When he arrived, he was no different, and he hated everything about being a slave with every fiber of his being. Even now, as a High-Master, the years of being kept as property haunted his nightmares, tormenting him when he slept.

But now, he was one of the High-Masters, which meant he was getting paid, and handsomely. He was also earning a hell of a lot of perks including occasional trips off the compound and a small office of his own. He’d even been able to use the money he earned to buy himself a bike, or rather, the closest thing they had to one. It didn’t have wheels, moving via hover technology, and even that was rarely used. You could ride it like a chopper, but in most cases, it teleported you from place to place. The technology of the 9th Era was wondrous, and he’d named the bike Annie after his wife. That name he didn’t bother getting cleared, it was just for him, although he didn’t ever speak it or even think it most days. He loved riding it, but his chances were few and far between, so soon the bike just became a means of transportation.

Most importantly he had a name now – Cathal. He’d wanted it to be Braeden, but it was very quickly denied. Something about not authorized for his use, likely due to it being so close to his given middle name. Then he'd tried Aiden, but that too was refused. Finally, he tried Cathal, like the Irish saint, which he wrote down and sent away to be authorized. However, the Vash-Yvvarans had no concept of silent letters or Irish pronunciation, and when he was granted permission it was for “kah-THALL”, not “CAH-hill”. It annoyed him, but it was what he’d been granted and for what it was worth, he liked the name.

But he never forgot his real name. Despite all his efforts, he _couldn’t_ forget it. He tried. It meant nothing to him now, but dammit it was still trapped in his mind like a crystalized memory that he couldn’t shake.

Deep down, behind the arena and its horrors he was still Shane McMahon.

But he wasn’t, really. He hadn’t been for a long time now.

He was a different person, far more cold and calculating. Morality had become negotiable and he had grown numb to death and violence. So, people died. It was how the world worked where he was. People fought, people died, but he lived.

Hell, he wasn’t just living, he was thriving. He’d grown to enjoy the status he’d earned and the perks and privileges that went along with it. Being a slave had been hell, but he was a High-Master now, he wasn’t going to let anything stop him from reaching his full potential and he was determined to use every ounce of resources at his disposal to do so.

That included stealing ideas from a family and life that he’d shoved into the back of his mind to protect his sanity.

After all, it wasn’t like he had the option or even the physical ability to go home.

So, when one of his superiors, a Grand-Master, came to him asking for advice on where the next star might come from, he had a few ideas. One of them was Earth.

UFC was just a young organization when he was taken, but he knew it was a promising one. He asked for some feelers to be put out, spectral agents they called them. They were some sort of ghostly AI observational things that you sent back in time to spy on the past. He didn’t know how they worked, but it wasn’t important and, when the specters returned, they showed that the UFC had become wildly successful in the 21st century. Naturally, he wasn’t given exact dates, precise information about Earth’s past was forbidden to him due to his history there. But he saw some promising photos and suggested they scoop a few big names. It almost made him feel bad to subject other humans to the arena, but then he wasn’t sure he was still human himself, so he did what he always did when his conscience nagged him - shoved the emotions in a box and mentally tossed them in the disposal incinerator. Those humans would be valuable assets he just knew it.

Turned out, his hunch was right, and with as successful as the scoops he suggested had been, there were rumors of another promotion in line for him.

One of the guys, an Irishman designated **_Manu-8209_** , showed his star power quickly. He was vicious and Cathal felt he was destined for greatness and even put in an early suggestion for him to be entered into the next 10-year Tournament. The tournament wasn’t for another 7 revolutions or so, but his star was rising so fast that he was certain to reach the finals. Although, for Cathal’s dignity, he was grateful that slaves were forbidden from knowing the names of their masters. Despite the name “McMahon” being hidden, his new, chosen **_Heig’on_** name was still unmistakably Irish. He’d hate for the guy to know it was one of his own who put him there. There were other UFC **_Manua_** as well, most with moderate levels of success, although a few had already been killed. One, a massive beast of a man who Cathal was certain would succeed, hadn’t done so well, winning several cycles worth of exhibition fights before choking in his first deathmatch. It was unfortunate but common. Fighting was one thing, but not everyone had the killer instinct.

Time went on, countless others were scooped, and he ended up getting that promotion. On 6.01.9’2169, nearly 20 revolutions after arriving and 6.5 revolutions after his last promotion, High-Master Cathal was tossed aside, replaced with Grand-Master Cathal. A new rank had been earned, along with a new office, new quarters, and a whole slew of new perks and such. His new quarters, as it turned out, were in the most luxurious section of the compound. Grand-Masters were some of the highest-ranked officials there and with Cathal being both a Grand-Master and a Grand-Coordinator, his living conditions reflected his status. When he’d first arrived, he’d been forced to live in the tiniest of rooms, little more than a closet, stationed just beyond the workspace of his personal Master. But now, he had an entire two-bedroom apartment to himself. There was a sitting room, a spare bedroom, a small section to eat and prepare food in, and the main bedroom with a full bath attached. They were more than comfortable lodgings, although as he didn’t need a spare bedroom, he had the bed and furnishings removed and turned the room into a small private gym to work out in. He had to pay for the equipment himself, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have the money.

Being a Grand-Master was wonderful. Of course, his new title also came with new responsibilities, and Cathal found that his previous, 8 hour workday was now 10 or 12 hours with little time left for relaxation or sleeping. There were only 20 hours, or **_goms_** as they called them in a day and suddenly those 20 **_goms_** seemed a hell of a lot shorter. But he’d never been the type to relax on Earth, so it wasn’t a dealbreaker now and he found himself excelling at his new position just as much as the last.

It was almost a revolution and a half after he earned the position when he first noticed her.

There was a new fighter at the **_Heig’on_** , a woman, who, despite only being there for 7 cycles or so, had been rising faster than he could ever imagine.

 _Manu-9174_. She was human, she was beautiful, and she was amazing.

It was true that her first fight hadn’t gone well. She was cocky, too cocky, and had gotten beatdown by her Vak’mi opponent easily. But she learned, she studied and taken to the fighting techniques of the arena like a pro and after her first few missteps, was already showing herself as a force to be reckoned with, so brutal, yet still attractive.

Mind you, she wasn’t what most hot-blooded men would call attractive. She was no Trish Stratus or Sable. But she wasn’t a Chyna either, at least not pre-transformation Chyna. No, she was about 5’9” of sinew and muscle, built like a truck but still feminine, despite her short hair. She was every ounce a fighter and since she’d arrived, she’d turned into a brutality machine, defeating all in her path.

Sometimes, he liked to watch her matches. Her first deathmatch, or _Mara’monto_ as they were called, was of particular interest to him. Like most fighters, he wasn’t sure if she would make the kill. But, if there was hesitation in her heart, she hadn’t shown it and she won the fight.

He’d put in a request to grant her a special privilege after that. He couldn’t choose what it was and had never found out, but he hoped it’d made her happy.

One day, after a particularly brutal fight, he put in an order for a photoshoot. It was within his capabilities, he was a Grand-Master after all, and when the images got back to him, they made his heart skip a beat.

Her eyes. There was something about her eyes.

As he sat there at his desk, staring at the photo, it was like they were a window to her soul. Her eyes were green, sharply colored, and vibrant with just a hint of mustard around the irises. They were beautiful, but beyond that, they were tragic and he could read her entire story there, from her heartache of being abducted, to her resolve to win, to the torture of her life as a **_Manu_** fighting slave. It was all there, calling to him.

And he was… feeling.

Emotion began to swell in his chest. It was part sympathy, part pity, part… something else. He didn’t remember the specific circumstances of her arrival, his days were so busy that they tended to run together, so he had no recollection of when or how she’d arrived. Frankly, he didn’t want to know. **_Oyv_** , especially defiant ones, would find themselves on the wrong end of any number of torture devices, were they to fight back. The Yvvarans who ran the **_Heig’on_** didn’t shy away from such tactics, and as a Grand-Master, it was often Cathal’s call directly to apply them. It was just one of the many unpleasant tasks involved with his job but it was still his job, and he didn’t let pesky things like humanity or caring get in the way of it. So, staring at the beautiful woman and realizing that he very well could have caused the heartache he saw in her eyes… it was making his stomach tie in very worrisome and disturbing knots.

“ ** _K’naad_** ,” he swore in Gorosian, slamming the photo on the desk. He didn’t want to feel. Feeling was what got you disposed of in the **_Heig’on_**. Feeling was for fresh face scoops who hadn’t been broken yet.

Shane McMahon? He was an emotional disaster, his heart exposed and in the open, more than happy to tell the world what was in his soul at any point in time.

Cathal, however, wanted nothing to do with emotions, feeling, or for that matter a soul. Cathal was a new creation, a product of 19 revolutions of conditioning and programming, bitterness and self-loathing. He tried to calculate in his brain how long he’d been there in Earth years, but the math was escaping him. It was at least 15 years, that was all he knew. Earth time had no meaning in the **_Heig’on_** , or in the Gorosian Empire for that matter. And in those 19 revolutions, Shane had died. Dead, perished, disposed of.

So, who the hell was this **_Manu-9174_** _,_ and why the fuck was she making him feel like a person again?

He grabbed his cup and took a big swig of his coffee. It was gross, as usual, but what else was new. It wasn’t true coffee anyway, just some alien knock-off, synthetically produced to resemble Earth coffee. Sure, it was better than most of the other food and drink he’d been forced to acclimate to since arriving, but it was still nothing like a good cup of real, brewed coffee. What he’d give for a genuine, honest to God cup of java.

He looked down at the photo of 9174 again. Her eyes were still calling to him, drawing his humanity back from the lead-lined coffin in his mind he’d stuffed it into.

He needed a break. He needed someone to talk to, someone who would sort out whatever the hell was going on.

Or possibly make him forget.

Tapping some buttons on his communications pad, he put in a call to one of the security personnel in the control room.

The line connected, and a voice rang out from the speaker in Gorosian.

_[“Grand-Master Cathal, how may I please you?”]_

Cathal, replying in Gorosian himself, responded, his words firm and authoritative.

_[“The botanical bay, is it occupied?”]_

_[“No, Grand-Master, it is not,”]_ came the response.

_[“Good. I’ll be heading there in 20 minutes. I need privacy. Keep the area unoccupied, would you?”]_

_[“If it pleases, Grand-Master.”]_

_[“That is all,”]_ Cathal stated and disconnected the call.

Then, hitting a few more buttons than last time, he placed a second call, and as it connected, the sound of music came across the speaker.

He whistled in return, the familiar, practiced tone flowing from his lips.

It was all that was necessary. A short melody sounded in return and the connection terminated. Cathal, making sure his desk was secure, left the photo there, and got up, and headed for the door. His friend, The Songminder would be able to sort this out. Zhe was telepathic, after all, maybe Zhe could explain to Cathal what he was feeling.

It certainly wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. Cathal physically shook the thought from his mind.

 _Fuck that,_ he swore at himself, _the last thing you need is to fall in love here._

Getting up from his desk, he grabbed his cup and, after topping it off at the food dispenser on the wall, headed for the door. Partway there, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror he kept on a shelf by the door. Being a Grand-Master meant keeping up appearances – literally – so he’d set up a small grooming station where he could make sure everything was in place before leaving his office.

It was; his hair looked fine and his black jacket settled nicely over the tight grey top underneath. However, he couldn’t help but look with disgust upon his reflection. He hated it. Being a dealer in blood and guts made it hard enough to look at yourself in the mirror, but the issue went beyond that. In distancing himself from his old Earth life, he’d also done everything in his power to change his physical appearance as well, growing his graying hair out and at one point sporting facial hair (which he decided he hated and went back to clean-shaven). But try as he might, when he saw himself, he still saw Shane McMahon. Shane O Mac, The Boy Wonder, Young Simba, or whatever new nickname he’d given himself that month. It didn’t matter what you called the bouncing idiot, every time Cathal saw his face, it betrayed him, reminding him that no matter how hard he tried to suppress the memories of his life as the WWE heir, corporate co-owner, loving son, devoted husband, and all that happy horseshit, he was still a human fucking being.

“You would fall in love at first sight, wouldn’t you?” he asked the man staring back at him. “You hopeless romantic dumbass.”

Obviously, there was no response, and he rolled his eyes at his reflection, before turning and heading out the door.

It wasn’t love; he wouldn’t let it be. “No Chance In Hell,” as one might say. Cathal wasn’t a lover. The concept was as alien as the creatures surrounding him every day. It had to be something else.

Whatever it was, he hoped that he’d get it straightened out soon. That **_Manu_** was a rising star and eventually, she’d be granted an audience with him. And when that time came, he wasn’t about to let her drag Shane, or whatever was left of the bastard, from his heart.

The Boy Wonder had been disposed of.

This was the Era of Cathal now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go, another chapter down.
> 
> Oh, and now that you've read this, (if you did) I can let you know that, from here on out, don't expect Shane to look anything like the Shane we all know character-wise. This is some heavy canon-divergence and after everything he's been through, Shane O Mac has left the building. Sorry to anyone who was sticking around for him. This is, as the chapter states, the era of Cathal now.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed!


	6. Musings of an Ancient God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the depths of the Arena compound, there is an alien, a mystical being from eons ago, who is being held in captivity along with the rest of the Arena slaves. Zhe is The Songminder and, while Zhe knows he could probably escape the compound on Zir own, Zhe has instead chosen to ally Zirself with one of the Humans to seek the freedom of all the slaves and captives of the horrible Heig'on.
> 
> This is the story of The Songminder and how Zhe came to be in sa Heig'on a Manu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so bit of a detour here. This chapter obviously wasn't involved in the actual dream, but I needed a way to throw in an exposition chapter for the Arena itself, along with exposition about how Shane got to where he is in the story now. It didn't make sense to do it from any other character's point of view (no, not even Shane's) so I decided to write an entire chapter from the Alien OC's POV to do so. I know that 6 chapters in seems a bit late for a purely expositional chapter, but it is what it is.
> 
> Also, sorry if I mangled the pronouns in this. I have no experience IRL with gender neutral pronouns, so this was a bit difficult for me. I thought about just giving The Songminder a gender but I couldn't. It didn't make sense within the story. So, again, it is what it is. Hope I didn't mangle it too bad. I will say though that the capitalization of them is intentional. This is a mystical god-like lifeform we're discussing here, Zhe sees Zirself above all others anyway. It's what Zhe would want. Plus, the capitalization helps in understanding. If you see "Songminder", it's referring to the character. If you see "songminder" it refers to the species.

Saa’Soto-97 was tending to Zir plants. 

In Zir quarters, housed amongst the master’s chambers, The Songminder carefully trimmed and snipped at the errant branches and buds of the many flora Zhe’d been granted to keep Zir mind occupied. 

The Songminder loved plants. On Zir homeworld, the local plantlife had been beautiful, almost as beautiful as most people viewed The Songminder Zirself. All telepathic abilities aside, The Songminder’s form often struck wonder in the hearts of those Zhe encountered. Zhe had a large, oval head with teardrop onyx eyes and a thin mouth, while Zher body was long and slender with two arms and two legs. Each hand had four thin digits that moved like snakes, no discernable knuckles or bones to speak of. Actually, in Zir entire body there appeared to be no bone structure, Zir inner body looking as though it were comprised of solid, brushed gold.

But Zir skin, if you could call it that, was the most beautiful part of all, with the appearance of a layer of sparkling diamond that glistened and reflected a slight iridescent rainbow. The songminders were a beautiful species, and if they hadn’t been functionally extinct, they would undoubtedly be considered the most gorgeous beings in the galaxy.

But The Songminder who lived in the **_Heig’on_** compound was the last of Zir kind and on that particular day, Zhe was tending to Zir plants, as Zhe often did. It helped to keep Zir mind at peace and Zir emotions at bay. There was a botanical bay in the compound that had been built at Zir request, and Zhe could go there at will, but Zhe enjoyed the plants that adorned Zir quarters a bit more, those being Zir favorites. Each one had been handpicked for Zir rooms for beauty and elegance, the wide assortment from across the galaxy playing off each other for maximum aesthetic effect.

One plant, in particular, a LuptooMoq flameleaf, had been looking a little sickly lately. Zhe’d given it nourishment, as well as a dose of the special blend of nutrients Zhe’d formulated in the event one of them looked ill, but it was no use. The Songminder had even tried to heal it directly through an essence transfer. – no change. 

97 sighed, Zir hearts sympathizing for the small, red-leafed plant. 

_“Perhaps, little one,”_ Zhe sang to it, _“you are not meant for a life of captivity.”_

The Songminder’s thoughts turned bitter. Of course it wasn’t. No creature was meant for captivity. The life Zhe’d lived for the past 30 revolutions had been reasonably comfortable, it was true. But Zhe wasn’t free. Despite Zir ability to come and go as Zhe pleased, The Songminder couldn’t leave the compound. 

Saa’Soto 97 wished for freedom, atmosphere, and starshine to absorb into Zir core, but despite Zir best efforts, Zhe’d been denied. Instead, 97 had been trapped in an existence of servitude, expected to use Zir natural abilities as a telepathic being to torture and manipulate incoming slaves into compliance. It was despicable work, the new arrivals were just poor, miserable beings plucked from their lives to be used as free labor and entertainment. 97 had once been there Zirself, but Zhe was the only one of Zir kind that was in the arena; after the incident that Zhe’d caused upon Zir arrival, the Vash-Yvvarans had learned that Zir kind was not the type to be scooped.

The Songminder snipped a sprig, Zir mind relishing in the memory. Such glorious pain Zhe had caused them. Zhe had been scooped as a **_Soto_** over 30 revolutions ago, soon after the arena was formed. **_Sotoa_** were guides in the arena, spiritual leaders trained to ease the transition of the incoming **_Oyv_** and prepare them for their new lives as slaves. However, what the masters had in mind for The Songminder was far more sinister; they had intended to use Zir to turn the **_Manua_** into mindless killing machines, something not entirely outside the ability of The Songminder, but certainly not a desire of Zirs. In the earliest rotations of the arena, the framework of scooping and training slaves was still in flux and the masters decided it would be easier to just telepathically instill compliance on the **_Oyv_**. However, upon arrival, The Songminder’s rage lashed out into the minds of the beings around Zir, turning several of them against each other and causing the deaths of two Gorosians, a Vash-Yvvaran, and a Tin’uVak’Mi before Zhe was incapacitated. It had led to such outrage that, when The Songminder regained awareness, Zhe was promised a wide range of freedoms not normally held by the other **_Sotos_** , in exchange for willing compliance. Originally designated **_Soto-97_** , Zhe was given luxurious quarters in the High-Master’s section of the compound, as well as freedom of movement and speech. Of course, the guarantee of free movement wasn’t an issue, the unique physiology of Zir species rendered Zir naturally invisible to all surveillance equipment. As long as Zhe stayed out of direct eyesight, Zhe could go where Zhe wished regardless, and, in the event that Zhe was seen, a quick spot of mental manipulation could erase the memory before anyone could act on it. Also, while 97 hated the work that was pressed upon Zir, Zhe was given the authority to execute it as Zhe saw fit – one of the primary reasons that the rebellious **_Oyv_** sent to be “taught” by Zir retained free will afterward. To manipulate emotions and issue threats was one thing, rewriting a sentient being’s mind entirely was a violation, an affront to the powers of the universe themselves. The **_Heig’on_** _**Vaa’Dan**_ could be as incensed as they wished, there were lines The Songminder simply wouldn’t cross. Zhe wasn’t evil at hearts – the only reason Zhe would ever rewrite a person’s mind was for their own good or the good of others. The **_Oyv_** were usually victims in the design of things, Zhe wasn’t going to remove their agency. The Arena masters, however? Zhe had no love for them and, if the need arose, Zhe wouldn’t hesitate to turn them into empty-headed shells.

Of course, there was little kindness involved in the actions Zhe did take. Beyond just rewriting and influencing the minds of others, Zhe could inflict pain, immense, torturous pain, and Zhe had been made to use that ability to coerce rebellious **_Oyv_** into submission. There was a practice in the outlying regions, places in the furthest depths of the quadrant where unfortunate lifeforms might find themselves. Far outside the influence of the empire, these locations were only discussed in whispers and rumors, with the various languages of the Empire having different names for it.

The Jakkans called it “ ** _Millnahi grahn_** ” or “Infinite pain”. The Gorosians called it “ ** _Wymon Faadge’Intnoza_** ” or “Living Worst Agony ”.

In English? They called it “Living Hell” and going there was called “The Fate Worse Than Death”.

Healing and medicine were quite advanced in the 9th Era of Gorosia, and it was quite easy for the beings of the quadrant to keep a body alive far beyond its natural lifespan. In “Living Hell” this was put to the worst possible use, keeping beings that had displeased powerful leaders the most alive for hundreds of revolutions, while they suffered the most immeasurable pain imaginable, never ceasing, never sleeping, just endless, agonizing torture.

This was the fate that awaited the most defiant of the Arena **_Oyv_** , and it was The Songminder’s task to impose a sample of that fate upon any **_Oyv_** who might show signs of trying to start a rebellion against the Vaa’Dan. The irony didn’t escape The Songminder that, were Zir own plans for rebellion be uncovered, the same fate Zhe threatened the incoming slaves with would be inflicted upon anyone Zhe was associated with, but Zhe knew that, if put in a position like that, Zhe could terminate Zir own life, taking whatever beings had tried to capture Zir along as well.

Still, being commanded to torture slaves every rotation was despicable work, and Zhe hated to do so, but it was the only way to ensure Zir survival long enough to be liberated. Despite having far more freedom than most in the Arena, it still wasn’t enough. 97 wasn’t truly free and Zhe hated both Zirself and the masters for forcing Zir to torture the other slaves. So, when Zhe’d found the correct lifeform to lead the revolt Zhe’d been plotting for several revolutions, The Songminder didn’t hesitate to begin grooming him for the task. 

And it was a human, no less. A young... man? Was that the word? Gender was such a peculiar concept to The Songminder, Zir kind had evolved past the physical limitations of gender and sex eons before Zhe Zirself was birthed, and the pronoun Zhe used was one Zhe’d stolen from the mind of a SolTerran 21 human. In Zir actual language, one soul referred to another by their name or title, nothing else. In the rotations that Zhe’d been in the Arena, however, Zhe’d come to appreciate the usage of pronouns and, while Zhe sometimes got them muddled, Zhe tried Zir best.

But, yes, Zir friend and ally had arrived at the Arena as a young man, his life barely a speck of dust in the cosmos, and it became clear quickly that he was the being best suited to lead the resistance against the corrupt **_Heig’on_** Masters. His heart was strong and filled with defiance, but also he possessed a drive to succeed that Zhe had never witnessed in a scoop before that. Zhe knew that the man wouldn’t just survive in the Arena, he would flourish and would be the perfect partner to assist Zir in bringing down the Arena and grant them and all the other Arena slaves their freedom. 

Zhe gently cut away a dried-up frond of a Jakkan fern and thought back to the day Zhe’d met the young human. When 97 met the being, he was just a lowly **_Laal_** , on equal footing as The Songminder – not a base level _Oyv_ , but still a servant. However, in the revolutions since then, Zhe’d come to understand the human’s names, both given and chosen. 

The human had chosen the name Cathal for himself in the Arena. However, his given name, which had been stripped from him upon arrival, was Shane McMahon. 

The Songminder put down Zir clippers for a moment and observed a wilted Ixxon GrumbaLurrg.

 _This one could use some moisture,_ 97 thought melodically.

Ixxon was such a damp environment, growing any of its plant life off-world was difficult. But as long as Zhe gave it fluid several times a rotation, it stayed vibrant. The ** _Saa’Soto_** walked across the room and, picking up the designated container, filled it with fluid at the basin in the corner. Zhe then returned to the GrumbaLurrg and showered it, making sure to saturate both the soil in the pot and the leaves above. Emptying the entire container, Zhe stepped back.

The plant looked better already.

The Songminder gave a motion of approval and returned the fluid can to its home before retrieving the pruning snips and moving to the next plant, Zir thoughts returning once more to Zir human associate, Cathal.

Cathal been scooped in the early _toans_ of Rotation 2151, brought in as **_Laal-4840_** , and had immediately caused an incident. He’d lashed out at the _Heig’on_ guards, landing several blows and injuring the eye of a Gorosian podkeeper before being subdued. However, despite this resistance, Cathal’s value had been deemed too great for simple disposal, and The Songminder had been called in to intervene. 

Upon waking up in his restraints, Cathal emitted a tone from his lips that, in The Songminder’s language, was an esteemed greeting. 

**_Saa’Soto-97_** had been stunned by this sound and projected Zir own greeting into the young human’s mind. 

“Many greetings as well,” Zhe’d told the man. 

Cathal looked confused. 

“Uhh, that was a whistle,” Cathal had explained. 

“A whistle?” 

“It means ‘I’m impressed’.” 

The Songminder had nodded, replying, “I see. In the language of my kind, it is a formal greeting, as one would give a ruler or great spiritual leader.” 

Cathal had nodded, stating, “Well, in that case, again -” and had whistled the tone once more before turning his mouth upwards into a crescent. 

The Songminder was shocked. While Zhe hadn’t understood the facial expression at the time, (Zhe’d been informed since then it was called a smile) Zhe could read the emotions of the human and registered them as kindness. Cathal wasn’t afraid, instead extending a tone of honor and respect. Not a single being since The Songminder arrived had shown Zir such reverence, and it was then that Zhe knew this “Shane” was the one to trust, to be put in charge of Zir plans. Defying Zir orders to torture the human into submission, 97 had instead offered peace, quelling the rage in the young man’s heart and telling him that, were he to cooperate, Zhe would ensure his comfort and safety for many revolutions to follow. He’d accepted and ever since then, the Songminder had kept Cathal safe and secure from both the masters and himself. One particular gift of 97’s that Cathal had appreciated was the ability to suppress memories at will. The memory technique was taught to all songminders at a young age and learning it had been essential to the survival of the young man. He wasn’t a master of it yet, but for a simple human, he was adequate. 

The Songminder had weaved many strands of Cathal’s fate since that day, getting him promoted through the ranks and into a position where he could have the most influence. Of course, Cathal was intelligent enough on his own for a human, so having him promoted was easier than if he were a simpleton. However, beyond simple planning for a rebellion, Zhe’d grown to care for Cathal as a human being, as a... what was that word Cathal used? That Earth word that meant respect as an individual lifeform, not a creature or low-level existence. Right. 

Person. Cathal was a person. 

Although, even as a person, Cathal was far beneath The Songminder. In the cosmic design of the universe, all remaining lifeforms in the Empire were inferior to Zir. **_Saa’Soto-97’s_** species had been named “ ** _CantoHalgrrieta_** ” by the Gorosians after one of the Earth words for music and the Gorosian term for the information cortex, although 97 preferred Cathal’s translation, “Songminder,” better; it flowed more smoothly through the spirit. The Gorosian language was very coarse and unpleasing to the ears, and the **_Ran-Mat_** translation devices did not work on Zir. Zhe was far too evolved. Earth English was not much better but, through his friendship with Cathal, he’d learned that it had words for most objects, events, and phenomena in the universe, and what it didn’t, it was happy to borrow. The Songminder had taught Zirself English the same way Zhe learned most of the languages of the sector – direct neural transfer. It was a technique that allowed songminders to absorb information directly from another sentient being or intelligence including artificial ones and was immensely helpful in day-to-day tasks. There were few secrets of the Arena that The Songminder did not know, and Cathal found much amusement in Zir, how did he put it, “Jacking into the Matrix.” An odd Earth expression, but intriguing none the less.

 ** _Saa’Soto-97_** paused Zir pruning for a moment to consider the concept.

Intrigue. Curiosity. Wonder. Zir species had been woefully lacking in that premise. In the end, it helped lead to their extinction.

The songminders had spanned eons upon eons, Zheir years lasting far longer than the Gorosians could even fathom. Zhey were a telepathic race with natural abilities that most current civilized species would view as on the level of the Supreme Designer. Through an endless history of learning to live with their surroundings, the songminders had developed an ability to influence the thought patterns and moods of lesser beings. It was only after they started interacting with beings from outside their homeworld that it was discovered that ability extended to other sentient species as well. Songminders also could manipulate essences and energy, allowing them to heal minds and bodies of other lifeforms. The scientific laws of the universe remained constant, if someone was missing a limb or had lost significant amounts of tissue, it couldn’t be rebuilt using their techniques, but most forms of mental or physical illness could be cured with minimal effort. Creatures from across the galaxy would come to the Muuia system to seek healing and peace. Usually, they came, they received their peace, and they left. But the songminders Zhemselves? Zhey remained where they were. To the songminders, peace and tranquility were found in a being’s own space and the few planets in Zheir system settled on besides Zheir own were only populated to relieve the pressures on Zheir home planet. Also, songminders believed that their homeworld was fundamentally alive, and sacred and to leave it was viewed as shameful and cowardly. When the Great Red Star had begun to deform, the greatest intelligence of Zir kind had attempted to stop the change and failed. Some lesser souls had fled, never to be heard from again, but most of Zheir kind stayed within the system, determined to save the Star or be destroyed along with it. **_Saa’Soto-97_** had been birthed in the final era of Zir kind and was only 150 or so revolutions old when Zhe was scooped by the **_Heig’on_** Masters. Once Zhe departed, it had only been a matter of time before the songminders met Zheir fate. Now, as far as 97 knew, Zhe was alone, the last of Zir kind, one lonely ancient god among an empire of fools. There was a possibility some of the ones who had fled were still alive, but it was doubtful. The Muuia star had exploded in the early part of the Gorosian Empire, some 70000 revolutions ago. Songminders were long-lived, it was true. But they weren’t immortal, and it was unlikely there were any remaining by that point besides Zirself.

Perhaps this was why **_Saa’Soto-97_** hadn’t left the compound yet. 97 suspected that, if Zhe wanted to, Zhe might be able to escape the Heig’on alone. But then, how far would that get Zir? Zhe would remain alone, doomed to spend an eternity in spiritual isolation. Songminders were both honored and feared in the legends of Gorosia, and while Zhey were able to live long lives naturally, Zhey could still be killed, and 97 had no intention of being disposed of before Zhe gained Zir ultimate freedom. No, better to bide Zir time and sow seeds of dissent among the other **_Oyv_**. Most of them didn’t realize their minds were being conditioned to rebel but Zir kind always did have a skilled ability for mindbending. 

So, Zhe waited. Zhe waited and planned and spent Zir days with Cathal. They shared frequent meetings in the botanical bay for beverages. Cathal’s beverage of choice was coffee. Coffee, or **_Sol Jin’gout Rue_** as the Gorosians called it, was a synthetic substance engineered to resemble the popular Earth beverage. Few relics from humanity had been deemed worthy of preservation in the Gorosian Empire, however, according to the records he’d accessed, after the repeated usage of Time Scooping technology to bring humans into the current era, the Empire had heard a great deal about the drink and, deciding to investigate, found it pleasing to their tastes and began the process of replicating it in the modern period. 

Cathal, once gaining access to the beverage, had grown rather fond of it, although he’d complained frequently of its shoddy resemblance to the real article. As a favor to Cathal, Zhe’d delved into the human’s mind to retrieve the memory of the beverage and, on the occasions of their botanical bay meetings, coaxed Cathal’s mind into processing the flavor closer to the correct one. 

The Songminder trimmed another branch. 

Yes, there was something notable about Cathal, and Zhe knew that, if the powers of the universe ever chose to react unkindly to the human, Zhe would fight their influence by Zir own hand to spare him, not only for the reasons regarding Cathal’s potential influence on Zir individual freedom but because Cathal had earned Zir favor in the previous 19 revolutions and to see him perish would be most regretful. If The Songminder’s plan succeeded, the day would come when they both left KryaIlfra Sev for more vibrant fields. Zhe sometimes wondered how they’d fare in the Allied planets. Cathal would thrive, Zhe believed, but 97 feared the Gorosians would be too intimidated by Zir to allow The Songminder to live in peace. Perhaps a differing planet in the region would suffice? Anything would be better than where they were.

The **_Heig’on a Manu_** compound was located on KryaIlfra Sev. Saa’Soto-97 had learned not long after arrival that the Heig’on base was on the sixth moon of Ilfra in the Krya system. Ilfra was a gaseous planet, extremely large with multiple moons. The Krya star was a great red star, much like the Muuia one had been, and the entire system was hidden in a dark corner of the outlying regions. It was the perfect place for an illicit operation, with the gas clouds of the planet offering up a perfect hiding place for the many satellites and devices required to broadcast the **_Heig’on_** battles across the quadrant. The Gorosian Informational Network or **_Holohalnak_** reached every corner of the Empire, all a being needed was the correct receiver, and a signal could get through. The crowds, as the **_Manua_** saw them, were digital projections, transmitted from various viewing stations across the sector. And, seated in those viewing stations, the bloodthirsty spectators could watch **_Sa Heig’on a Manu_** as though they were in physical attendance. It was a complex system, all built to maintain the secrecy of the **_Heig’on_**. Slavery was strictly forbidden by the KVV and, were the location of the sprawling **_Heig’on_** compound to be discovered, there would be severe consequences for all the Promoters and Masters involved.

All of this information, **_Saa’Soto-97_** had gathered surreptitiously in Zir time there. Most of it Zhe kept to himself, but Zhe did feed bits and pieces to Cathal as it fit the plans for the revolt.

In all three of Zir hearts, 97 was eagerly awaiting freedom. At one point, The Songminder had considered trying to find a way to return to Zir homeworld, before realizing that to do so was impossible and, even if Zhe could, it meant certain death. Better to seek a new life in the current era.

Zhe thought once more of Zir home planet. The name was nothing that could be spoken by the Gorosians, or any other species Zhe’d encountered since arriving (although Cathal had tried). Zir race had evolved past words, using carefully measured pitches and tones to converse. 

Cathal had called it “music” and, prior to the introduction of humans to the Gorosian Empire, there was no concept of it known to the species of the 9th period. 

The Songminder’s emotions turned warm at the idea. 

_Perhaps there is a purpose to humankind after all,_ Zhe thought to Zirself. 

Zir thoughts were interrupted by the tones of the communications console near Zir door. That particular pattern was unique to Cathal, and Zhe responded with a tonal sequence indicating Zhe awaited Cathal’s instructions. 

In response, the sounds of whistling rang through the speaker, and Zhe responded with an affirmation before the communication link terminated. Unlike the other species of the Arena, Cathal had done his best to learn some of the language of Zir people. He sometimes had difficulty expressing it, but The Songminder had learned to translate the tones Cathal sang and respond in kind. 

The tones he had just whistled spoke succinctly of a desire. 

_[“Reverent. Coffee.”]_

Reverent, a title Zir people reserved for a master of the spiritual arts, Cathal had learned independently as a means of giving him a name besides “ ** _Soto_**.” As it were, Cathal had taken steps to elevate Zir designation beyond simple **_Oyv_** , adding a prefix of greatness before Zir designation. “ ** _Saa-Soto_** ”, while still being a term of description rather than an actual title, meant “greatest guiding” in English. It was better than simply being called a “ ** _Soto_** ”, but it wasn’t a name and Zhe much preferred to be called “The Songminder” by the other residents of the **_Heig’on_** compound. “Reverent”, while a nice enough name/title, Zhe had decided was reserved for Cathal himself. Nobody else had bothered to learn Zir language, so nobody else could use the term.

The Songminder returned Zir pruning device to its storage location, before leaving Zir quarters for the botanical bay. As Zhe did, Zhe pondered the nuance in the tones Cathal had whistled. 

_He sounds distressed,_ thought the Songminder. 

_Perhaps he wishes for comfort._

As **_Saa’Soto-97_** traversed the corridors toward Zir destination, Zhe knew if Cathal wished comfort, Zhe would gladly grant it to him. 

It wouldn’t be the first time Zhe’d influenced Cathal’s thoughts to give him peace. 

Zhe was certain it wouldn’t be the last. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! Another chapter down!
> 
> Sorry if it was too long or drawn out. I'm really trying my best here, but so much of this is freewritten that I'm a bit out of my depth. My bread and butter is dream stories and this chapter wasn't in the dream. Plus, the details about the songminder race make them difficult to write for. With them being a species that uses no actual text or speech (outside music) it makes it difficult to convey information about them on paper. Like, yes, The Songminder did have a given name, but I can't write it because I can't put musical manuscript on this site. I did my best, let's just leave it at that.
> 
> Oh, and as a little fun fact tidbit: The notion of The Songminder tending to plants and going deep into thought while doing so comes directly from the TV Show "Andromeda" and Trance Gemini, the God-Character on that show. She would be seen pruning her Bonsai tree and going into deep, prophetic dreamstates while doing so, and when I was thinking of a framing reference for this chapter, that came to mind.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!


	7. Life and Times in Sa Heig'on a Manu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tina, coming to terms with her life as a gladiatorial slave, finds that the more victories she scores, the better she is treated. Naturally, this instills in her a drive to win and, over time, she begins to find new reasons to fight besides just survival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! I didn't forget about this, I just took a bit of a hiatus from publishing is all. Life stuff got in the way. But I'm back and phew! Has some of the stuff in this chapter gotten... um... shady.
> 
> I need to make this very VERY clear. The plot and contents of this chapter were written nearly in their entirety back in August of last year. I have edited it since then, but there is a part here involving the fate of Earth that, due to recent events, may seem in horrible taste. Please understand that those parts were written LONG before the events of this month (January 2021) and in no way are meant to question, diminish, or even directly reference them. I considered changing them, and toyed around with several other ways to write that bit, but eventually decided to leave it as it was. To me, the plot points are vague enough as is and, for the record, too integral to the story to remove. I'm deeply sorry if it bothers any of you, but I promise that no person, place, or event is mentioned by name outside of Planet Earth as a whole, and in the lifespan of this story, they never were. Also, friendly reminder that Tina LaMotte was taken from Earth in 2002. Everything that has happened to us in the past 19 years is a mystery for her. So please, be kind and understanding and don't send me hate mail regarding this ish. It took a ton of courage to even start publishing this again at all.
> 
> Anyway, on with the story!

Tina was thriving.

For some time now, she’d been competing full time at the compound and doing a hell of a job at it. She’d quickly gotten the hang of battling beasties from across the galaxy. Naturally, being a skilled fighter in Earthly martial arts didn’t hurt going in, but once she’d trained in the ways of the arena, she was a force of violence and destruction those bastards tuning into the blood sport had never seen.

The arena was simple. Two “people” entered, and there was only one victor. The fighting itself took place at the heart of the Arena compound, in a large open chamber called the BattleRing. Two tunnels led to the BattleRing, one on either side, with bright, flashing lights to dazzle the fans and illuminate the competitors who entered. Surrounding the fighting area were rows upon rows of “seats” which, in a normal arena, would house paying fans. However, due to the secrecy of the Heig’on, the fans for the BattleRing were holograms, transmitted images of real beings who were watching from elsewhere. Tina had no idea how that part of the arena functioned, but at least they sounded real enough and their presence made the fights more exciting than if she was just ripping aliens apart in silence. The BattleRing floor itself was only slightly soft, more to give traction than protection. Around the arena floor were various pieces of metal, stone, coral, whatever that were switched out each fight to make the fight more interesting. Also, in some fights, weapons were provided, usually in an effort to even the odds in a fight where one of the competitors had a natural advantage by their anatomy or other biological feature. Any usage of the weapons or arena effects was permitted, as long as they fit within the match type. As a lowly human being, built for speed and agility with few natural physical advantages, Tina was usually provided with some sort of weapon going in, be it for bludgeoning or stabbing, depending on the fight. Guns? Well if there were guns in the future, they were strictly controlled, as even the guards for the arena didn’t carry them. Tina had to wonder what sort of society she’d found herself in that projectile weapons weren’t readily available. It surprised her a bit – all those Sci-Fi shows she’d watched growing up, she thought there’d be blaster pistols or laser guns.

There were only two types of Heig’on fights – **_Mara’gontzo_** and **_Mara’monto_** **,** roughly translated as “Fight of Damage” and “Fight of Destruction”. The first fight was a battle to see who could incapacitate the other first. The other… well, there was only one survivor of the **_Mara’monto_** fights and while the winner would be celebrated, the loser’s body was sent straight to the incinerator to be disposed of.

“Disposed of.” That’s what they called it when you died in **_Heig’on_**. You weren’t killed, and certainly not murdered. No, you were disposed of like unwanted garbage, thrown in a furnace, and your ashes tossed out into space. At least, that’s how Tina assumed it worked. She was just a slave, an **_Oyv,_** and had never been to that part of the compound.

She prayed she never would be either. The only way an **_Oyv_** ended up there was as a corpse.

But in the **_Heig’on_** **_Maras_** , she did well, learning the strengths and weaknesses of the different alien races along the way. Some tactics were forbidden from the start. You couldn’t go for a fighter’s eyes or implants, and there was no pulling of anything attached to the head (although grabbing a fighter’s skull itself was fine). Also, there were no cheap shots to the genitals allowed, a rule that, while less enforced in **_Gontzo_** fights, required not only precision strikes in a **_Monto_** , but a fair amount of learning as to just where the genitalia of the alien species was so you could avoid it. Breaking the rules in a fight, much like any form of defiance or misconduct in the **_Heig’on_** , was never advisable. Sure, you wanted to win and even more importantly survive. But as she found out, death wasn’t the worst possible outcome in the **_Heig’on_** and she shuddered to think what would happen if she won a **_Monto_** by cheating. When she was still learning the ropes, she’d managed to get in a few “nut” shots on her opponents during **_Gontzo_** fights. Needless to say, she was punished for her transgressions, being strung up and beaten for the offense, leaving her in pain until her next legally fought battle. Soon, though, she got the hang of things and instinctively avoided any forbidden attacks. Outside of those rules though, practically anything went, and over time, Tina learned how to beat even the most unique species. Vash-Yvvarans, the species responsible for the **_Heig’on a Manu_** , were never **_Oyv_** , something Tina suspected was a deliberate choice. She didn’t even bother learning how to fight them. But just about any other species present in the compound was fair game. Gorosians, with their four arms, oversized triceratops looking heads, and many eyes, were strong overall, and you needed to avoid their spikes. But once you got them down you could usually beat them to death. Tin’uVak’mi, who resembled bipedal chameleon/iguana hybrids, were impossibly flexible, had strong, bony torsos, and were best defeated by a strike or stab to their upper back, where their heart was. MoqWaan looked a bit like the satyrs of Classical Mythology, except instead of brown fur, they had pale green skin. Those guys were quite agile but had weak hips, and with a well-applied hold or kick, you could dislocate them and leave them helpless on the floor. Jakkans were beautiful beings with pearly white skin and twin black headtails. However, in the arena, they were as fragile as glass and a cakewalk to defeat… if you could catch them. With Ixxons, an aquatic race that resembled upright fish monsters, it was better to avoid headshots entirely, their eyes were so big they were hard to miss. Also, despite resembling fish, they were remarkably tough and could take quite a beating before dying, so your best bet was to break their legs and arms and kick them in the chest till their lungs collapsed and they suffocated or stab them in the torso for the same result. And finally, G’Kona? They had thick, black, scaly skin that was hard to penetrate by any weapon, so your best bet was breaking their necks if you could get close enough to do so. Their heads weren’t quite in scale with the rest of their bodies – for the size of their torso and limbs, one would think they’d have an equally large skull – but no, they had skulls comparable in size to humans… which only made exploiting their weakness against neck-breaking that much harder. G’Kona were the hardest opponents Tina faced. They were a tough, warrior race of beings that were hard to kill and fit right in at the **_Heig’on_**. Tina had received more than one beating at the hands of a G’Kon, but she’d gotten the hang of them and soon could usually hold her own against them.

Like all fighters, Tina started her run with **_Gontzo_** fights, exhibition bouts with both parties surviving and all wounds healed afterward. But eventually, she had her first **_Monto_** fight, and it was against a being she’d never fought before. Its designation was **_Manu-9244_** and it resembled a large spider demon. That fight was hard, not just to win, but to survive. Tina had been given a spear as an equalizer but keeping it out of the spider-thing’s many arms made it more of a disadvantage than anything. She found herself with a nasty stab wound to the right shoulder, and a nearly fatal stab wound to the upper leg near the artery, but in the end, she’d managed to climb on the spider’s back, steal the spear back and drive it into the upper spine of the **_Manu_**. It went down with a flailing screech and she followed it up by plunging the spear through the spider’s back into its vital organs. The spider perished quickly, and Tina was declared the winner.

But she hated it. She was congratulated by the guards and after she was healed, found a surprisingly delicious berry and nut salad waiting for her. It was the best meal she’d had since arriving, but she was still disgusted by what she’d done, and she cried herself to sleep in the barracks that night. The creature hadn’t been human, but she knew deep down that it was a sentient being. All the arena fighters were intelligent species, and that spider demon probably had a family out there as she did. Now he? She? They? Whatever they were was dead and she had their blood on her hands. She dreamed that night of a massive, fiery battlefield littered with corpses, every one of them looking like someone she knew from her old life, and as the fire swept the battlefield, they were all obliterated and she remained standing atop the ash pile, the last person standing.

The next morning she woke up different, as though an emotional dimmer switch had been activated. She fought in countless more **_Mara’monto_** fights after that, winning them all and it didn’t take long before the dimmer switch was removed and any emotions she’d begun with were turned to dust.

The fighting circuit that she’d been pressed into itself was known as **_Sa Heig’on a Manu_** or “The Arena of Fighting.” When she first arrived, she’d wondered how the seemingly fearsome beings from across the galaxy were forced into slavery so easily. She soon learned that… well there was a term or condition that was whispered among the slaves of the Arena. The first time she heard it mentioned was in a conversation she overheard between two Ixxon **_Manus_** in the barracks. Ixxons were hard to comprehend, but it sounded like they had said “Beyond the Torment.” It made no sense to her and she figured it didn’t translate nicely. The second time she heard the notion referred to, it was by a Gorosian guard and called “Living Worst Agony”. That was a bit more comprehendible and sounded awful, but still wasn’t clear.

So, one day, when she was in the meal hall, she approached a human **_Soto_** and asked them directly.

“Excuse me,” she asked, approaching the aged Caucasian woman and hoping she spoke English. Trying to get the translators to accurately convert between Earth languages was always such a pain, and she just wanted a straight answer she could comprehend. “I don’t mean to bother you, and sorry if I’m interrupting your meal, but I need to discuss something with you.“

The **_Soto_** had stopped eating her food and replied softly, “Yes, child. What is it?”

Tina did her best to explain the terms she’d heard and how she wanted to know what it meant, but as she did, the **_Soto’s_** gaze darkened, and her reply was in a hushed tone.

“My child,” she replied, “you shouldn’t ask these things. But, if you must know, there’s a place, a condition that the masters can inflict. Nobody who’s been sent there has ever been seen again, but from what those who have experienced a small sample of it tell, it is an endless living hell. A fate worse than death, you might say. Those that anger the masters most, that refuse to comply with their new lives as **_Oyv_** are sent away to suffer and die a million deaths with no relief for an immeasurable time, far beyond our simple lifespans. Now, please, leave me be and ask no more of these questions.”

Tina did as was requested and left the woman to her bowl of food. The answer satisfied Tina well enough, and as she pondered the words the **_Soto_** had spoken, realized that those who rebelled must be given a sample of the torment as a threat for a permanent trip to that personal hell.

Being a slave was bad enough, but she had decided to comply willingly, albeit after some initial insubordination. But she realized that if she had continued to rebel…

She shuddered. Those monsters. How sadistic were the promoters and the supreme master if that’s the sort of punishment they were dealing with?

Tina quickly filed that question away in the same folder as “what do the incinerators look like.”

Tina had learned quickly to play nice. As long as she’d been there, she still had hopes of returning home. After all, time travel should theoretically be possible in both directions, right? So she’d been biding her time, following every rule and convention she’d had drilled into her while shredding aliens in the arena. She didn’t fight every night; there were so many **_Manua_** in the **_Heig’on_** that it would have been impossible for the same people to fight every day. But she was fighting at least twice a week and usually when she wasn’t fighting, she was either eating, working out, training, or learning. There were ample facilities for all those purposes in the compound, and everything was run like a tight ship, with any stepping out of line or insubordination quickly quashed and order restored before most people realized something had gone awry.

With her life on the line regularly, she kept in peak physical condition. When Tina had arrived, she looked much like your average women’s MMA fighter: lean, muscular, but still feminine. But the longer she fought in the Heig’on, the more defined her muscles got, and soon her thin, relatively petite form transformed into that of a strongwoman. One day, she glanced at herself in a mirror and couldn’t help but admire how big she had gotten.

 _Wow,_ she thought as she flexed in the mirror.

 _You could give Chyna a run for her money with this physique_.

In the shape she was in, she easily won most of her fights, and the more she won, the more she earned privileges. Privileges, or **_Man’Yokulae_** as they were called in Gorosian, were perks, benefits, comforts, and kindnesses that you could earn through both victory and good behavior. The first privilege she earned, after about ten or so **_Gontzo_** wins, was a better blanket for her bed. Then, after a few more minor comforts, she was given a small cup of juice at mealtime. That one didn’t impress her much until she drank it and suddenly felt a rush of energy surge through her like a fireball, and she spent the next couple of hours with a bit of a buzz. Thankfully, the effect was only temporary and when it ended, she didn’t feel any cravings for more. She figured that, whatever it was, it was little more than a potent energy shot that the powers that be gifted her to help ease her tension for a while. But, beyond all the creature comforts, energy shots, and minor luxuries she received, her favorite privileges to earn were those involving the gift of knowledge. One of the first and most ongoing privileges she earned was language. **_Mara’Monto_** _/_ ** _Gontzo_** and **_Sa Heig’on a Manu_** were just the first two terms she was taught. She was surprised to learn early on that “Gorosian” wasn’t actually the term for the empire, language, species, etc, just the English translation. Their home planet was indeed called BasGorosa – Bas star system, planet Gorosa, but the proper term was **_Gorosakuln_**. It was a hell of a suffix, ‘kuln”, and she decided she was grateful that her translator did it’s best to make things easier for her. On a related note, within the Gorosian ( ** _Gorosakuln_** ) naming system, Earth was called SolTerra, meaning Sol system, planet Terra. She figured it was close enough, and sounded kind of nifty to her. All spacey and stuff.

In regards to less pleasant information, slaves were called **_W’mon-oyv_** , (or just “ ** _Oyv_** ” for short) which was roughly translated to “Living object”. Slaves such as **_Manua_** and **_Sotoa_** **,** were all **_Oyv_** , with **_Manua_** being fighters, **_Sotoa_** being guides, **_Orbaka_** being aides or helpers, and **_Orpaha_** being healers. She had grown especially grateful for the **_Orpaha_** during her time there as, to maximize entertainment value, the **_Heig’on_** masters fully healed their **_Manua_** after every fight. Medicine in the Gorosian Empire was far more advanced than anything on Earth. First off, the Biotech implants that everyone wore warded off almost all naturally occurring disease and sickness, and those that it didn’t were easily curable with a quick injection. On top of that, the implants help to slow natural cellular degeneration, meaning that a human, barring any fatal outside influence, could live well past their normal Earthly lifespan. Meanwhile, when it came to injuries, there was little damage that the **_Orpaha_** couldn’t heal. A laceration took moments to fix. A broken bone? About fifteen minutes. Need to fully regrow a kidney? Give them a few hours or so. Even nerve damage and concussions were no big deal. However, a knife through the heart and decapitation wasn’t going to be healed even by the best doctors. They were doctors, not deities. So, she had learned to protect certain areas of her body to stay alive long enough to heal the rest of her.

She was taught that, in the ranks above her, everyone outside her status was considered a Master or **_Vaa’Dan_**. Those who dealt with her day to day were just **_Vaa’Dan_**. Their superiors were called “High Masters” or **_Tu-Vaa’Dan_** , with their bosses being **_Ti-Vaa’Dan_** and the one who ruled them all, the big boss so to speak was **_Ta-Vaa’Dan_** or Supreme Master. There was only one of those in the **_Heig’on_** and his name was forbidden knowledge among the **_W’mon-oyv_**. **_Heig’on_** itself was run by the Coordinators, or **_Heig’on N’aahj_** , which Tina equated with the old wrestling and boxing promoters on Earth. There were the **_N’aahj_** , followed by the **_Tu_** _,_ **_Ti_** _,_ _and_ ** _Ta-N’aahj._**

Then she moved to simple words and phrases, such as “Yes” and “No” ( ** _Y’an_** and **_Nota_** , with the similarity to English being purely coincidental, but a blessing to Tina). Conjunctions such as “a” and “the”, “it”, “they” and “them” followed closely after. ( ** _I_** , **_Sa_** , **_Im_** , **_Ra’am_** , and **_Ra’ad_** respectively). Another thing she learned was modifiers. Much like “s” was added to most English words to designate plural, Gorosian language added an “a”. In cases where the word already ended in “a”, the plural and singular used the same word. She also learned the “good, great, greatest” prefixes of “ ** _Suu_** , **_Sii_** , and **_Saa_** ”, along with the opposite words “ ** _Fuu_** , **_Fii_** , and **_Faa_** ” (bad, worse, worst). It should be noted that the “ ** _Suu_** ” and “ ** _Fuu_** ” prefixes only applied to objects. Gorosian, as an entire language, relied heavily on prefixes and suffixes. If someone were to ask Tina, she’d probably say that whatever forces were responsible for initially crafting the language had looked at an apostrophe, decided, “I’m gonna make this thing my bitch,” and just ran with it. While the **_Suu_** and **_Fuu_** prefixes applied to objects, there were entirely different prefixes to be used with different noun forms. Over time she learned them all, but the only one she used in daily speech was the prefix for leaders or persons of importance, or in her case, the many Arena Masters. Those prefixes were **_Tu_** , **_Ti_** , and **_Ta_** and it was made immensely clear to her that getting them wrong was about as grave an offense as kicking a newborn puppy, getting railed in a church confessional, or even wanting Reagan to somehow have a third term.

Well, maybe not quite as bad as that last one.

All of this knowledge was taught to groom her into being a better **_Heig’on Oyv_**. One of the few pieces of technological info she was granted was the fact that the universal translators, known in Gorosian as **_Rahn’jk-ood’nimat_** ( ** _Ron-mata_** for short), were only programmed to read one output language at a time. Her personal translator was tuned to English, so whenever she spoke English, everyone else’s **_Ron-mata_** turned it into their native language. However, when she spoke Gorosian, the translator didn’t translate it and the recipient heard plain Gorosian. To know and speak Gorosian was a weird combination of honor and duty among **_Oyv_**. On one hand, it was considered far more appropriate to address a master as **_Vaa’Dan_**. But anything outside of “proper slave responses” was to be kept in your own lowly tongue. That said, not all languages were translated nicely via the translator implants, for example, Jakkan to English was particularly difficult, so in those cases, Gorosian was usually spoken. The language was the common tongue of the empire and most people in the **_Heig’on_** had some level of comprehension. Meanwhile, speaking the names of anyone above you, or ever even whispering your own given name were grave offenses. Tina had made a point of not knowing anyone’s name for this very reason. If she didn’t know anyone else’s name, she couldn’t be put to death for saying it.

After that, she learned important vocabulary for her _profession_ , as one might call it. **_Yo’Vaa’Dan_** and **_Yo’Ti-Vaa’Dan_** (which meant “Yes Master” and “Yes High-Master”, both in the meaning of compliance), were instilled in her like they were gospel. Another prefix - **_Yin_** – when added before the title **_Vaa’Dan_** , meant “Yes” as in “That is correct”. The prefix “ ** _Niu_** ” was similarly used to signify something as incorrect. However, if there was a specific prefix for designating a refusal of compliance it was conspicuously absent from her teachings. Saying no to a command wasn’t an option for an **_Oyv_** , so why teach the phrase? Other words were taught, like **_Manu_** and **_Mara_** which meant “Fighting” and “Fight”. Upon learning that, she realized that **_Manu-9174_** as a designation wasn’t even a noun. It was an adjective of the type of slave she was (namely “fighting”). That particularly disgusted her, and she swore to herself she would never forget her true name.

Meanwhile, regarding her name, her many victories had earned her a moniker, a nickname as they would have it. Something that the fans could call her besides her meaningless designation and when she would enter the BattleRing or do interviews, it was how she was introduced.

They called her “The Girl With The Bronze Curls.”

Well, actually, they called her _“_ ** _Sa Ginxia a Ptumbaj’oak Roa_** _,”_ which directly translated as “The Rings of Bronze Woman,” but she liked it better the way she phrased it. Although, like a good submissive slave, when she used the phrase herself she spoke it the Gorosian way, namely “The Bronze Curls Woman.” That’s how the term sounded through her **_Ran-mata_** (there were usually slight differences between the specific literal translations and the technologically powered translated ones) and she didn’t dare try to alter the term she’d been saddled with, in fear of angering the **_Vaa’Dan_**. She did appreciate the **_Ran-mata_** trying to adjust the languages for nuance, but it rarely worked outside Gorosian. Regarding the term though, “The Bronze Curls Woman” just sounded immensely condescending to her, plus it flowed horribly so she preferred her term better.

It was a pretty awesome name, she had to admit, and a fitting one at that. There weren’t a lot of other species she’d encountered with body hair, and humans were the only ones she’d seen with human-like tresses, so having long, flowing locks was something exotic for the **_Heig’on_** viewers. And, with the forbiddance of hairpulling, it was safe for her to grow her hair out, as it couldn’t be used against her. She still kept it tightly braided for fights, the alien **_Orbaka_** were quite good at up-dos for not having hair of their own, but when she wasn’t fighting, she let her long, reddish-brown curls fall naturally and the fans always went nuts over them. If she was being honest, she’d always preferred short hair – back on Earth, it had never been below shoulder length, even as a child – but the reaction she got in the **_Heig’on_** was worth keeping it long and it only served to further her “brand”.

As time passed, her Gorosian comprehension grew strong and she became fluent in the language, so she was granted information about the functionality of the empire as well. In Earth years, it was the 28th century, but in Gorosian time, it was the 9th Epoch of the Gorosian Empire. Time was measured in Rotations, Cycles, and Revolutions, which boiled down to Days, Weeks, and Years, although from her point of view, the only one of those that was comparable to Earth was the Rotation, which was roughly equal to 24 hours. Despite the Gorosian Empire spanning halfway across the galaxy, all dates were calculated based on the length of the BasGorosa year. (BasGorosa, or planet Gorosia of the Bas star system, was the center of the Gorosian Empire and the Gorosian homeworld.) She also learned that, outside of Gorosian time and dating systems, most planets maintained some semblance of their native clock, leading to a joint system of local and empire times. It was all very confusing to Tina, so she just decided to ignore it. Also, while there were Gorosian terms for those time frames which she learned, due to the way her translator worked, she used the English words. There were just too many **_Oyv_** coming and going in the **_Heig’on_** to try and switch between languages all the time. There were other time frames as well that translated to Decades and Centuries, but the one that really interested her was **_R’rrkwgh_** or“Time Era.” The Gorosian term for Time Era, involved sounds humans weren’t equipped to make, so she just called them Epochs. At first, she tried to keep track of things in Earth time, but outside of one Revolution being equal to about ten and a half months, she just couldn’t get the hang of it. One day, about five revolutions into her stay, she did the math and figured she’d been there a little over four years. It didn’t matter. She was on a different planet, Earth time meant nothing and once she got the hang of it, she started thinking of time strictly in Gorosian terms. The rotation she arrived in was 9’2170 (9th Epoch, Revolution 2170) and the system was set up that 10,000 revolutions were an Epoch, and when a new Epoch began, the revolution count started over. It was complicated but quick to learn. The one thing she knew was that Gorosian Civilization had been around for a hell of a lot longer than humans lasted and their grasp of technology, from biotech to time travel proved it.

One night, as she was trying to sleep in her bunk, the thought that strangely, halfway across the galaxy from Earth, the Gorosian Empire still used base 10 ran through her mind and got stuck there. She wondered why that was and the question bothered her for several cycles before she realized she had no real means of getting an answer and chalked it up to one of the many mysteries of her new life. She knew she could ask one of the **_Sotoa_** , but after her last question, she didn’t dare try.

Regarding the local government, the ruling force of the galaxy was, loosely translated, named the Galactic Governmental Alliance, although the proper Gorosian term was much more complex. Usually, they were just called the KVZ or “KooVeetZetak” in the Gorosian Alphabet. They were a tyrannical force that allowed no freedom of self or freedom of purpose. She was taught that, in the allied planets where the KVZ ruled strongest, people were forced to work long, endless hours with no personal freedoms. The citizens of the KVZ were controlled completely, almost brainwashed, with the Alliance leaders manipulating the media and all knowledge to keep the people in line like something out of an Orwellian Dystopia. The true freedom lay on the outlying planets, where each planet self-governed and people were free to seek pleasure and profit as they saw fit. She didn’t know what planet she was currently on, but she was fairly certain it was one of the outlying ones. She also had a feeling that what she was being fed was a bunch of propaganda. She wondered how bad the KVZ could truly be if the outlying planets kept people as gladiatorial slaves.

Life as a slave frankly sucked. Eyes down, yes master and all that. But if there was one thing that brought her any measure of enjoyment in her shittastic new existence, it was learning about the world she was trapped in. Like some twisted version of Stockholm Syndrome, she was driven to understand her surroundings, and the more she learned, the more bearable it made things. Her life was ass, but with every new word or fact she learned, it became slightly less offensive ass. Also, even as she earned knowledge, she continued to gain comforts, ranging from electronic novels to read to a small handheld computer with games on it to play. They helped to pass the time when she wasn’t training, eating, or fulfilling her other duties as **_Oyv_**. She wasn’t free, not by a long shot, and she wasn’t getting paid in credits or crystals (the hard currency of the Gorosian Empire), but she didn’t feel like chattel either. Her life was hard, but with her winning streak as it was, it was comfortable. Not that she didn’t lose fights occasionally – even she knew that much like on Earth, a true unstoppable fighter loses the crowd quickly. There needed to be some reason for the people to get invested in the battle; if they automatically knew she’d win, they wouldn’t tune in. So, she put effort into making the fights a show, telling a story, and engaging in showmanship… at least, for the **_Gontzo_** fights anyway. She made a point of going all out for **_Monto_** fights, showboating in a deathmatch could get you killed quickly.

It didn’t take long for her efforts to pay off and she started noticing the crowd’s response. When she was introduced, they cheered her, subsequently booing whomever she was facing. In wrestling terms, she was over and one day, after a particularly exhilarating **_Monto_** fight, she was led back to her quarters… only, rather than the barracks, there was a single room waiting for her. It wasn’t fancy, there was minimal décor, and the bed was still just a simple mattress on a slab, but it was private and she decided that day, whatever it took, she was going to the top of the **_Heig’on_**. If she had to obliterate every nasty bastard they put in her way, she was going to win her way to luxury or die trying.

It was between five and six revolutions after she’d arrived, somewhere around five years, when she caught wind of a tournament that was being held. She didn’t know much about it but was asked, yes asked by an **_Orbaka_** sent from one of the High Masters if she would like to enter. She was informed that every battle in the tourney was **_Monto_** , but she didn’t care. She eagerly said yes and was placed into a qualifying fight.

When she stood in the arena that day, a knife in her hand ready to use, she stared down her opponent and knew she’d made a mistake.

It was a woman, not unlike herself, slightly younger, but very built. Her blonde braided hair and scowl told her that she was in for a fight, but in her heart, she was hesitant. She’d never fought a **_Monto_** fight against a human before. The thought of killing another human, a woman, caused the final spark of humanity left in her to flicker and she looked at the other woman with sympathy. She wondered if the woman came from the same time period as she had. Looking at her build and fighting stance, she’d guess the woman also had a background in MMA. In another timeline, another world, she’d have loved an ongoing rivalry with this woman. But the Supreme Designer could be cruel sometimes and, for one brief moment, she was saddened by the possibilities of what could have been.

But only a moment. Suddenly, the woman’s fist was in her face and it was on. The two of them battled viciously, with the other woman at one point wrenching Tina’s arm in a ferocious armbar. It injured her, but then the battle was to the death, and Tina was more than capable of killing a person one-handed. The battle came down to a moment where Tina was partially caught in a triangle hold. It was only moments before the woman had her locked in and choked out to kill as she wished. But fate was with Tina that day as, when Tina was shuffling her feet in desperation, she realized the dagger she’d entered with was behind her. While they were evenly matched, for some reason, she’d been given a weapon. It was unusual, but not important at the moment. The other woman didn’t quite have the triangle locked in, Tina’s left arm was free on the outside, and with a precise flick of her foot, she kicked the dagger towards her hand, picked it up, and plunged it into the opposing **_Manu’s_** chest.

There was blood everywhere, and the **_Manu_** released the hold. Immediately, as a kindness, Tina stabbed her again in the heart, killing her instantly. The **_Manu’s_** biotech implant sounded three beeps and then a flatline tone to indicate death. The buzzer sounded and the crowd roared. The fight had been closer to an MMA fight than anything she’d previously experienced but, while it did give her a bit of nostalgia and stir up some thoughts of home, Tina was sickened by the outcome. She looked down at the pile of humanity with pity. The **_Manu_** had been human, a woman, just like her. Now she was just another body for disposal. Tina’s good arm was raised and she was led to the back to be healed by the **_Orpaha_**.

That evening, after another surprisingly delicious meal (this time it was something that vaguely resembled shredded chicken over a mashed, root vegetable), she returned to her private quarters to find a **_Holonam_** on her end table. **_Holonama_** were like small, electronic reading computers that could be read like a book, with the screen being backlit and the pages able to turn with the touch of a button at the bottom. It was fascinating technology to Tina and this particular **_Holonam_** was titled (in Gorosian) “The Fate of SolTerra.”

The **_Holonam_** was censored for content. Everything she was fed was propaganda. But the **_Holonam_** told of a great uprising in the mid 21st century that led to the destabilization of much of the planet. Great nations fell and the economy collapsed. Soon, the entire planet was in poverty, and revolution followed. Nobody had won. The humans tore themselves apart and drifted into Armageddon by the early-22nd century. Eventually, humans were extinguished by the changing global climate. Now, the only humans remaining in the galaxy were those such as herself who had been scooped from their proper timeline, “liberated” from the planet before it’s doom.

She was horrified. Words, babbling words came from her mouth like a fountain; an endless stream of “Oh my god” and “Why” and “Please No” mixed in with names of loved ones and family members.

It was all dust. Earth had crumbled and humanity was functionally extinct. All those TV shows about Earth meaning something in the future were a lie. It meant nothing. Tina very rarely saw anyone who looked like her, outside of a couple of fellow slaves. The woman she’d killed that day was the first human competitor she’d faced. **_Soto-9043_** _,_ was another, likely taken from China as a **_Soto_** who could calm the incoming **_Manua_** and prepare them for their new lives. If she had to guess, she’d peg him as a Buddhist Monk.

Tina missed her family, she missed her friends, and now she missed her planet more than ever. But most of all she missed her freedom. The learning was great, but even with her private quarters she still had to sleep on a flimsy mattress, eat gruel most days, and answer to just about everyone she encountered with eyes lowered and subservient responses. Her winning streak had given her some creature comforts, and she got high off the adoration, but she longed for true independence. If the outlying planets were the free ones, she sure as hell wasn’t experiencing it.

So, she fought. She fought, she won, and she kept her words and thoughts to herself. By that point she’d learned that it was best only to speak when spoken to and, outside of communicating with the **_Vaa’Dan_** and any other **_Oyv_** who might assist her, she kept quiet, saving her speech for her inner thoughts only.

She’d been there nearly five years and anything resembling Tina LaMotte, outside of her lifelong aggressive streak which had been ramped up to eleven, had been destroyed. She found herself struggling to remember what her friends and family looked like, their memories stripped from her and overwritten by a never-ending torrent of battered alien corpses. Even her own name began to fade from her consciousness, replaced by an empty designation.

She longed for a familiar face. Someone, anyone who could remind her of home.

The tournament continued and, facing no more humans, she felt no grief or shame in the slaughter it entailed. She clawed and maimed her way to the finals, each fight more difficult than the one before, and eventually won the tournament and a spot in the championship fight.

One person remained, the previous champion. She didn’t know their designation, only their title – **_Saa’Spaza_**. It meant Greatest Champion and if everything went her way the following day, she would be crowned the new champion in their place with a grand ball and luxurious feast to be held in the honor of the winner.

It sounded to her like something to fight for. She’d fought for survival. She’d fought for privileges. Now, the following day, she’d be fighting for glory.

After the tournament finals, where she knocked off a particularly brutal G’Kon warrior, she returned to her private quarters and found a rich, hearty meal waiting for her of what looked like spinach and noodles. Usually, when she got fed, it was in the mealhall, but this time it’d been left in her quarters on a small table. She was starting to enjoy getting real food, rather than just that horrible grey pudding shit. Granted, the utensils weren’t quite what she was used to, the fork prongs were like a triad, rather than a straight line, but she made it work, and the food was delicious. It tasted nothing like actual spinach and noodles though and she wondered what sort of alien cuisine it qualified as. When she was finished, she went to the door and placed her tray outside on the floor, much like one would room service for a hotel.

“I guess I just leave this here,” she commented to herself as she set the tray down.

When she returned inside, her stomach pleasantly full, she went to flop on the bed… only to stop suddenly when she saw a small, pocket-sized device laying there.

“Hmm,” she wondered aloud, “What the hell could you be?”

Picking it up, she saw it was small, somewhat boxy, and a blue-tinged grey. It looked to be made of some sort of heavy synthetic material with a lens situated on the top of it and a button on the side.

“Well, I suppose,” she said, examining it, and, after another quick look-over, pressed the button.

Suddenly, a projected image appeared above the lens, like something out of Star Wars. It was made of light and showed a rotating logo of a triangle in a circle, with the Gorosian letters K-V-Z on it.

 _It’s a hologram_ , she realized as she passed her hand through the image.

Suddenly, the logo dissolved, and the projected hologram began to show its message. It was a video of a robed Gorosian, very important looking, with his skull crest and horn adorned with silver ornaments. She could tell from the image that the projection was speaking in Gorosian, but it was being translated, either by the device itself or her translator, and she understood it clearly.

 _“_ Greetings, Citizen. I come to you today because you have been chosen to learn about the history of temporal scooping technology,” the alien said.

 _Ok_ , Tina thought, _now I’m intrigued_.

She sat down on her bed and watched the display as it went over the story of how the Gorosians had discovered time travel technology through research into Krrl’gntnz? Was that the word? There wasn’t a single vowel sound in that term and, despite her knowledge of Gorosian, she didn’t recognize it. Although, the fact that it wasn’t translated meant that it was either a word with no English translation or a name. If she had to guess, she’d say the name of a species, one of the countless alien races that lived in the galaxy.

The hologram was both video and audio, and from time to time some words appeared, written in Gorosian rather than English. The notion dawned on her that the device, whatever it was, was a sort of training video for the KVZ and, despite the **_Heig’on_** clearly not being associated with the KVZ, the **_Heig’on_** Masters acquired the video to instruct **_Oyv_**. The visual text, when it appeared, gave her a bit of insight as to the Gorosian terms for things and she found out that, yes, the Krrl-whatevers were an alien species that had existed before the Gorosian Empire was formed. The idea was that Time Scoops were developed using ancient technology, uncovered a relatively short time ago, and functioned much like time-space teleporters. By sending virtual lookouts into the past, they scouted who would be a good candidate for scooping, from the various doomed planets of the galaxy, and brought them into the future. People who this occurred to were known as Time Displaced Beings.

As this term was spoken, a line of Gorosian text appeared, spelling out “ ** _Looq’ona Fiontagwa Wymoanara_**.” She realized that was the Gorosian term for them, and the narrator went on to say they were usually just called “LFW’s” (Although, again, the Gorosian alphabet being alien, “LFW” was pronounced “LaoFoeWoo.”) Tina had usually thought of them as “Temporally Displaced Persons” and was a bit happy that she’d been right about that term.

But then, the video continued.

And her world shattered.

It explained that. due to the nature of the technology, true, physical time travel was still impossible and, while the Gorosian Empire hoped to one day master the art of traveling back and forth through time, currently there was no way to do so.

When the video ended, the picture faded, and the device beeped.

Tina was crushed.

Why had they told her that? Of all times, why now?

Bitter tears formed at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, instead roughly wiping them away.

She wasn’t going home, ever. It was impossible. Any hope she had of seeing or communicating with her friends and family was a lie. The only thing she could do now was to make the most of her situation.

Suddenly, it occurred to her why they showed her the video.

A low but audible growl formed in her throat. Those bastards. They wanted to ensure that she gave 200% tomorrow, and they chose to do so by destroying any notion in her mind that there was life beyond the **_Heig’on_**. If the Arena was the only life left for her, she was certain to fight with everything she had to make it the best one possible. At least, that’s what they counted on her deciding.

They counted right. Tina angrily tossed the projector device on her nightstand and, opening the drawer within, pulled out the reading device she had stashed in there. She hadn’t been given the best selection of reading material, again so much was censored and propagandized, but at least the “books” kept her busy. She was just grateful she’d taken to the Gorosian language so well; the books certainly weren’t written in English.

But try as she might to read, her focus failed her. That particular novel, a book about a dashing Jakkan vigilante waging a one-man campaign against the corrupt KVZ militant forces, had kept her engaged for two cycles by then. But with the information she’d just been shown, she simply could not focus on the story. There would be no distracting herself from the truth and, shoving the reading pad back in the drawer, groaned loudly and flopping back on her bed. Somewhere along the way, time had such little meaning in the Heig’on, she’d earned herself a thicker mattress. Her bed was comparable to that of an Earth one now, although still firmer than what she would have liked. She’d done her best to try and break it in, but it still wasn’t all that comfortable.

And as she flumped backward onto the mattress, she shut her eyes to the pain she was feeling.

It was a horrible idea.

With her eyes shut, she could almost visualize the barren wasteland that her home had become. California, with all it’s lush greenery and hills and coastal beaches, scorched and burned into an unrecognizable charred husk.

Earth was gone. There was no going back.

Time to move on.

Then and there, she made a decision. The entire world, life, and existence she had known before arriving was destroyed. Her family was dead. Now, Tina was dead as well. She mentally visualized herself throwing the person she once was into an incinerator and slamming it shut. That person was dead. She was now… well shit, she needed some name for herself?

 ** _Manu-9174_**? Well, yes, that was her designation, but it wasn’t very personal. There was the Gorosian translation of it, **_Manu Dog’tu Bar’hy_**. **_Dog-tu_** wouldn’t do, she was no dog, but **_Bar-hy_**?

 _Nah, Bar-Hy is just a number,_ she thought to herself. _It won’t do._

_Hmmm… Bar-hee, no doesn’t flow._

_What about Bar-ee? Barie? Barai?_

_Barai._

_Barai is nice. Barai works._

_It’s a start, anyway._

Settling on Barai, she nodded to herself and decided it was as good a name as any for the time being. Perhaps if she won the tournament the following day, she’d earn a proper name. It was something to hope for, at least.

That night, as she lay in her bed, she closed her eyes and thought of Shane McMahon. His face too was fading. The man who had made her so happy in her past life, now reduced to ashes with the rest of her home planet. For a brief moment, she wondered if his mysterious disappearance had anything to do with Temporal Displacement. The notion had been bouncing around her head for some time by that point, the thought that he was in the future as well. Perhaps somewhere in this mess of a galaxy, he was safe and sound, sleeping in a bed somewhere amongst the Allied planets.

Or maybe, he’d been taken as a slave as well and was already among the disposals.

In her bed, she sighed at the thought. Considering how shitty life was for **_Oyv_** , he’d be better off having died back on Earth. Shane had always seemed like a kind man, if a bit wild, overambitious and hyperactive, it would break her heart to know he’d been turned into a cold heartless murderer by the promoters.

Then again, this was someone who had done seriously horrible things to his own family at the behest of his father, so anything was possible. Shane O Mac had a dark side, everyone did, and if the Arena had taken him, who knew what sort of monster he’d been turned into.

She shook her head at the thought and consigned herself to rest.

Wherever Shane was, he was better off than her; that included the possibility of him being dead.

As she entered her slumber, she heard Shane’s voice once more speak to her.

“I’m here,” he told her. “Come with me. Share my story.”

And then, there was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang, yo. That was... a lot. I know it seems weird putting nearly an entire chapter of exposition seven chapters into the story but, due to the nature of the story and it's methods, this was the earliest I could. I know, I know, this is all hot garbage. But I like to think the story gets better from here, I just had to get all this out of the way.
> 
> Next chapter is titled "The Grandest Stage in the Galaxy", which I hope to have up much sooner than it took me to write this one!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. The Grandest Stage in the Galaxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cathal (Shane McMahon) reflects on Manu-9174's (Tina's) ascent to stardom and the tournament championship, while dealing with the day's paperwork and pondering what might happen if she wins the following day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, just a quick chapter today. Nothing offensive or questionable in this chapter, I promise.
> 
> As always, the alien language stuff is in bold italic, to help distinguish it from the English.

Cathal was pleased

The advance ratings for the championship fight of the _**Saa’Heig’on Kiin’tA**_ were outrageous. Each progressive fight there had been, the ratings increased. It wasn’t unheard of to see an increase for the tournament, but ever since they’d gotten rid of the competition, they were downright golden. The only game in town, the masses who wanted their fix of violence had nowhere else to turn and, honestly, the No. 1 Contender, **_Manu-9174_** , had blown them all away in terms of popularity.

They called her “The Bronze Curl Woman” after her long, brown, curly hair. 9174 had let it grow out since arriving and it was now her signature. She usually kept it tightly braided and up during matches, but when she did photoshoots and promos, she let it fall free, her shining locks falling halfway down her back. She was beautiful, and everyone wanted to see her; not just millions but hundreds of millions, all across the sector were tuning in to see her.

And so was he.

Cathal had tried to give her some competition. After all, even a top babyface is nothing without a good heel. But the person he’d hand-picked to put against her, **_Manu-11590_** , the other promoters had set up their first fight as a deathmatch in the tournament qualifier. Cathal had brought the Arena far in his time as a coordinator, but they still had a lot to learn about building a feud and putting on a good show.

Not that he hadn’t tried to implement such changes but having good ideas as a wet-eared newbie turned out to be easier than as an actual Grand Master. At that level, he was more of a supervisor than an ideas guy.

Maybe he just needed the right idea. Or the right star.

On the rare occasions that he thought of Earth, usually against his will, he found himself wishing he could go back in time and pluck psychic copies of guys like Austin and Rocky, stealing their talent but leaving them physically in the past. As much as he’d love their star power at his fingertips, he would never want to put any of the boys through what he went through.

Besides, shoot fighting was more Ken Shamrock’s style anyway. Maybe Dan Severn if he was scooped early enough. Guys like The Rock probably wouldn’t last long. They were athletic, but just too… nice. They were less “killer” more “actor.”

But this 9174. She was downright breathtaking. First of all, she was human, which was a huge plus in his book. Despite being a woman, she was extremely muscular, far more so than when she’d arrived, and she was well-matched physically with most opponents she faced. Those she had a strength disadvantage against, she could outmaneuver, her quick reflexes and movements outpacing the larger, lumbering aliens. All in all, there were few **_Manua_** in the Arena that could challenge her and, for quite some time, none that could defeat her. It was nice to see a human dominating in the land of the aliens, although from their point of view, 9174 was the exotic one, somehow trampling across the very best fighters in the Gorosian Empire. Second, her skill was unmatched. He had no idea exactly when in the 21st century she’d been scooped from, but he assumed no earlier than 2030 or so. She’d been so dominant from her first day that there was no way she came from the 90s. They just didn’t make them like that then, both feminine and brutal. Well, outside of Chyna, of course, and even she'd taken time to blossom into her full splendor. But Chyna was the Ninth Wonder of the World, one of a kind, and while _**Manu-9174**_ certainly had developed a similar build since arriving, it was out of necessity not choice. Also, as attractive as he'd once found Chyna, 9174 was leagues ahead in that field, somehow managing to maintain her womanly form despite being built like a tank. No, the **_Manu_** was something else entirely, a wonderful combination of beauty and violence, and the **_Heig'on_** fans couldn't get enough of her. It seemed an unlikely combination. **_Manu-11590_** was far closer in fighting style and looks, although even she was no match for 9174. She’d turned out to be just another number in The Bronze Curl Woman's body count. At least it wasn’t the poor woman’s first fight altogether. She’d been kicking around in the system for almost a full revolution. He’d just hoped for more of a feud between the two women.

But even beyond her skill, there was something about 9174. The more he watched her the less he could not watch her if that made sense. He started feeling compelled to watch every one of her bouts personally from his office, sitting on the edge of his seat. It wasn’t that he was afraid she’d lose, although the tournament fighters were the best of the best, she was just so thrilling to see. It’s like the image of her on the screen just sucked him in and held him captive until the fight was over.

He wondered if there was something to that, but realized it was probably just her natural charisma. Some people just had it.

The buzzer on his door sounded.

_[“Attend,”]_ he called out. The **_Orbaka_** entered holding the forms for the day's briefings. This **_Orbaka_** was an Ixxon, not the most attractive aliens in the sector by a long shot, but not the ugliest either. New people were working for him constantly, with them being shifted around and switched out frequently. Technically, as a Grand Master, he was more than permitted an official assistant, but he’d just never found anyone he liked enough to see every day.

The **_Orbaka_** approached, speaking in Ixxia.

_[“If it pleases, Grand Master, I present the day's briefings.”]_

Ixxons, even through the universal translators, sounded a bit like someone was trying to speak underwater. They were coherent, but barely. And as it was, Cathal wasn’t using his translator, and while he was fully capable of understanding Ixxia, he didn’t feel like translating a five-minute-long fart in the bath. There was no hope of him getting the briefings read to him that day. He supposed he was just grateful that all of the office workers in the **_Heig’on_** compound understood Gorosian. The **_Orbaka_** would have no problem comprehending his reply.

Cathal took the forms from the helper and, speaking perfect but succinct Gorosian, he replied to the fish-creature

_[“Very good. Dismissed.”]_

The alien bowed and left the way he came in.

Cathal looked over the **_Holofroms_**. At the 15th hour, primetime, **_Manu-9174_** would face the previous champion from 10 Revolutions prior, _Manu-5098_ – a Praxxon. ClumPraxxon was the sister planet of ClumIxxon, but the environments were completely different. Ixxon was a moist, swamp-like planet with a constantly saturated atmosphere and featuring mostly wetland species. Also, Ixxons, by nature, were an aquatic race, having evolved to survive both in and out of water. Basically glorified fish, one of the reasons Ixxons sounded like they were always underwater was because that was what they were used to.

But Praxxons? Praxxons were more or less living rock creatures, damn near indestructible and extremely hard to damage, let alone kill. **_Manu-5098_** had been tournament champion twice running already, and the tournament only happened once every 10 Revolutions. They’d been so damn dominant that, after 5098 massacred everything in their path during their rise to champion, the **_Heig’on N’aahj_** had banned Praxxons from the arena (outside 5098, of course.) Having powerful fighters drew ratings, but as he’d explained to them, having a contender who won nothing but squash matches tended to lose the fan’s interest over time. And, despite their dominance, no Praxxon was ever going to have the star power or showmanship of Bill Goldberg.

Praxxons only had one weakness, and it was hard as hell to take advantage of. You had to stab the bastards up the nose. It sounded ridiculous, but it was the only effective way to kill them; in the arena anyway. You could still blast them with an energy bolt, but those weapons were extremely hard to come by outside of the KVZ Defense forces. As big a black market as there was where they were, energy weapons were all one of a kind with isomorphic controls. Even if you could get ahold of one, you wouldn’t be able to use it.

Cathal sighed at the thought.

_Never let it be said that effective gun control isn’t a possibility._

He reached over for his coffee mug.

It was empty.

_Shit._

Pushing his chair out and grabbing his mug, he got up and headed for the mini synthesizer on the wall.

“Coffee” was one of the few supposed Earth pleasures that existed where he was. Only, it barely bore a vague resemblance in flavor, the viscosity was all wrong, and it was all decaffeinated by nature. Also, completely synthetic, there were obviously no coffee plantations in Gorosian Civilization. But it was the only piece of home he had access to daily and he’d become something of an addict.

He stuck his mug under the dispenser and punched a button.

“ ** _Sol_ _Jin’gout Rue_** ,” he ordered, commanding the device with the beverage’s Gorosian name.

Nothing happened.

He tried again.

“ ** _Sol_ _Jin’gout Rue_** ,” he spoke again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

Cathal sighed. His synthesizer had been giving him trouble for a cycle or two by that point, but usually, after a few tries, he could get it to work. But try as he might, the machine wasn’t giving up its treasures that day.

“Motherfucker,” he swore in English. He roughly grabbed his mug and returned to his desk. He was going to have to put in a repair order. He hated doing so, the repair workers in the Arena always seemed to have an attitude problem. Cathal figured it was due to their long hours and low pay. Steady work was hard to come by in the Outlying Planets, and the **_Ta-Vaa’Dan_** knew this, doing whatever it took to maximize profit while minimizing expenditure.

At least they were getting paid.

He leaned over and punched some buttons on his console. His coffee would have to wait. Someone was going to have to come and fix his damn food synthesizer.

Finishing up his request, he looked over the daily briefings. There was a **_Holofrom_** image copy of the promotional poster for the championship bout.

He stared into 9174’s eyes on the electronic film and swore they were staring back.

“Supreme help you,” he prayed, referencing the Supreme Designer, not the Supreme Master. The deity of choice in those parts was the “Supreme Designer,” or **_Taa-Amahodi_** a holy figure not unlike the Earthly Christian God who was believed to have constructed the universe. And honestly, the **_Ta-Vaa’Dan_** being referred to with the same prefix of Supreme, albeit without the second A, had always seemed a bit blasphemous to him, but that was probably just the remains of his humanity talking. The **_Ta-Vaa’Dan_** certainly didn’t see it that way.

He promised himself he would toss a crystal in the well for her later, for luck. He didn’t know why he was so fond of her, he’d never even met her before. But it was like she was… connected to him. Some ethereal force tugging them together.

If she died, he’d be terribly upset.

On the other hand _,_ there was the issue of what would happen if she won.

_When she won,_ he told himself.

_Have some faith. If anyone can destroy that walking boulder, it’s her._

As a Grand Master, and personally responsible for her being in the Arena, if she won the following day, 9174 was to be granted an audience with him. It was certainly a thrilling enough idea. It was so rare that he got the chance to sit down and talk with another human being. In fact, as he wracked his brain, he couldn’t think of the last time it happened. Sometime before he became a ** _Vaa’Dan_**. There were so few humans in the **_Heig’on_** , and most of the ones that were there were **_Sotoa_**. Humans were usually viewed as being weak in mind and spirit, and outside of spiritual leaders and wisemen, most humans were deemed unsuitable for scooping.

Well, outside of a few choice **_Manua_** he’d convinced the other Masters to accept into the fold.

But his feelings. Those pesky feelings.

There was something about 9174 that struck him as remarkable. It went beyond just her beauty, and far beyond her simply being human. There was something more there and if Cathal was being honest, it troubled him. So far, his only exposure to her had been through video transmissions and photos. But if he met her in person? Who knew what would happen.

He shook the thought off. He was a Grand Master. He couldn’t afford any sort of emotional entanglements, especially not with a **_Manu_**. **_Saa-Spaza_** or not, it wasn’t just ill-advised, it was forbidden. **_Manua_** were prohibited from being romantically attached, although Cathal doubted that stopped many of them. But no, he had risen far above **_Oyv_** status and couldn’t afford to be attached to someone so far beneath him.

He stared down at the _**Holofrom**_ once more.

_Whoever the hell you are,_ he thought silently, _I hope you survive._

And, somewhere in the depths of his mind, a voice added, _I hope I do as well._

He continued gazing into her eyes for several more **_Redds_** before the tone sounded once more for the door. He placed the **_Holofrom_** back down on the table with the others and leaned back in his chair.

[“ _Attend_ ,”] he called out once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> The next chapter is called "The Unstoppable Force and The Immovable Object" and is about the championship bout. I hope to have it up sometime soon. We're coming up to the end of this part of the saga, and when we get to part two...
> 
> Well, you'll just have to wait and see.


	9. The Bronze Inferno and The Great Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day has arrived. 
> 
> It's time for the Championship match, and Tina, now mentally going by the name of Barai (alternative names are a big thing in a world where your own is stripped from you), is ready for anything. Little does she know that, in this case, "anything" involves a damn near invincible rock creature the likes of which she has never seen before.
> 
> Can she survive, and more importantly, can she win?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Another Chapter!
> 
> Yeah yeah, I changed the name of the chapter. That old one seemed too cliched. Anyway, try to enjoy this latest part. I'm pretty rubbish at writing action, but as always, I tried.

Barai was ready for battle.

It was the evening of the championship match. She’d given her promo interview where she tore down her opponent, sight unseen. Like all the **_Heig’on_** fights she never saw her opponent before she got there. All she knew was a name, or rather, a designation.

**_Saa’Spaza Manu-5098_**. Better known as “The Great Wall.”

The name had struck her as odd. There was always the chance it was a coincidence, but to her, it was another example of Earthly influence on the Arena. When she’d first arrived at the compound, she was simply announced as Manu-9174. Now, she’d earned herself a full-blown boxing style introduction, complete with homeworld and nickname. She’d spent more than a few nights wondering exactly who was feeding them information about Earth entertainment that the **_Heig’on_** operated so much like her old MMA fights.

MMA… or possibly the WWE.

She’d developed quite the hypothesis about that since arriving, but had always cast it aside as a cursed thought. If Shane was in the Arena, it was none of her damn business and she was certainly never going to meet him. More than likely, the Masters had scooped him, stolen all his knowledge and ideas, then thrown him into the furnace. They’d never let a human get far in that awful place, and clearly never above **_Oyv_** status. However, the Shane she knew would probably kill himself rather than live in bondage. He’d always appeared to be the free spirit type, young and full of fire, piss, and vinegar. There was the possibility that he’d rebelled and ended up trapped in the Living Hell, but she didn’t like to think about that outcome. No, if he was one of the lucky ones, his ashes had long ago been mixed with the stardust she liked to think waited just outside the compound walls. His essence and soul were free, either floating through space like a cosmic entity or somehow resting happily in an ethereal realm with his long-deceased wife.

She’d certainly had enough dreams about him in the past six revolutions to keep him fresh in her mind. All those dreams of him calling to her. At some point, after she’d arrived and she’d begun to form her hypothesis, she wondered if he was calling her to the arena. But, years after she’d arrived, she was still having dreams of him calling to her. They confused the hell out of her and now her running theory was that he was calling her to her inevitable demise and her fate as spacedust in some distant nebula.

Wherever Shane was though, he was better off than her, and it didn’t matter because, that night, her attention was directed at more pressing matters.

Like defeating The Great Wall and becoming the new champion.

She was informed that he’d been the champion ever since the tournament was first run 30 revolutions ago. That worried her a bit as she knew whoever it was, she’d never faced him before. She’d been there 6 revolutions and never even seen or heard of him.

It was troubling. What sort of beast was he that they wouldn’t even let him fight anymore?

But she tried not to let it get to her and, as she sat in the dimly lit left tunnel, waiting to be introduced, she wiped her face with the towel she’d been provided. The arena had feeder tunnels on either side that could slide open and closed to provide access to the rest of the compound (on one side) and the BattleRing (on the other). They were metal walled, like most of the compound, the difference being that they had a wide, dazzling array of lights that could be activated for show when a fighter entered. At the moment, however, it was just the standard dim lighting, illuminated just enough for her to see, and she was sitting quietly, her eyes on the floor in front of her. Mentally, she calmed and stilled her mind, focusing it into a deadly weapon, while simultaneously psyching herself up.

_Ok, Barai,_ she told herself, using the new name she’d chosen a few nights earlier. _You can do this. It’s just one more fight, that’s all. No big deal. That title is yours._

She heard footsteps approach her and she looked in their direction. An **_Orbaka_** was approaching with her weapon for the evening. It was a long-handled, bright silver vibro-spear. They were common weapons for the arena, although she had to admit this one was fancier than her usual fare. Most of the weapons were plain and utilitarian. This one was decorated, with black etched curls lacing their way along the handle and up to the blade. The blade itself almost seemed to glow, with an anodized surface accented with curls similar to the handle, only rather than black, they were extremely reflective. Despite the reduced lighting of the tunnel, the etchings were practically luminescent, and she nodded with approval at the beauty of the weapon.

It was obviously saved for special occasions, the equivalent of only bringing out the fine china when company arrived.

In Gorosian, the Jakkan **_Orbaka_** ran down the rules. She already knew them by heart but was still glad the Jakkan was speaking Gorosian outside the reach of the translator, rather than his native Jakka. She was fluent by that point and could understand him perfectly; Jakka, meanwhile, had a seriously rough time with the **_Ran-Mat_** devices, and communication was difficult.

_[“Fight to the death,”]_ he told her, _[“no targeting the Biotech, no blinding, no pulling on cranial attachments. Anything else goes in the attempt to win.”]_

It was the standard rules of a **_Monto_** fight, having been designed long ago to get the most entertainment value from the slave fighters. She was a bit startled to hear the omission of the usual rule about genital shots, but she figured that being a championship fight, the rules could be a bit different. If that rule had been rescinded for the fight, it might make things a bit easier, depending on what species she was about to encounter. Regardless, she wasn’t about to question her instructions. Questions got you in trouble and trouble got you hurt. The last thing she needed was to go into the championship fight injured or in pain.

As for the rules as a whole, however, Barai had grown grateful for them, as they made her life easier. She’d even grown her hair out once she realized it couldn’t be used against her. Beyond just making her feel good about herself, her hair had become her signature and the longer it grew, the more famous she became. She had begun to wonder, were something to happen to it, if she would lose her fame and status like a twisted sort of Samson popularity curse.

_[“One final notation,”]_ the **_Orbaka_** added. _[“You should make peace with the Supreme Designer now. Your success is unlikely.”]_

Barai scoffed in arrogance.

_[“Thanks,”]_ she replied, _[“but I can beat anyone.‘]_

There was a pause before the **_Orbaka_** added, _[“They are a Praxxon. I wish you luck.”]_

Barai’s blood ran cold. A Praxxon? From ClumPraxxon?

_Oh fuck._

Praxxons, as she had learned from her studies, were a race of sentient rock creatures. They had very few weaknesses, and none that she had read that would assist her in battle. They were hard to hurt and even harder to kill and as she sat there and heard the crowd begin to roar beyond the door, her previous pep-talking quickly turned to silent prayer for her survival.

But she didn’t have long. After a moment, the door of the tunnel slid open and the lights blazed.

_Aw, shit,_ she thought as she got to her feet, _here we go. It was nice while it lasted._

She took a deep breath and cleansed her mind. It wouldn’t help to go into battle terrified or with a defeatist attitude. If the champion was truly impossible to kill, there’d be no point in even having the match. No, there was a way to beat them, she was sure of it, she just needed to figure it out.

Out in the arena, the ringmaster announced her entrance in true showmanship style.

_[“Introducing first, the challenger! From the forests of SolTerra. The last fighter standing in the Third Greatest Arena Tournament, The Bronze Curl Woman, FIGHTING-9174!”]_

_Breathe._

Barai, gathering all her courage, jogged out into the fighting ring. The crowd was roaring, losing their damn mind over her. It was a hell of a pop and she took the time to show off for them a bit, flexing her biceps and beating her chest, shouting. The viewers ate it up and cheered louder than she’d ever heard them.

Any doubts she had for the fight quickly faded away. They loved her, and she knew she’d ride that wave to victory.

So, when the champion was announced, her previous concern was absent from her thoughts. Adoration was a hell of a drug, and with the fans behind her, she felt unstoppable. She felt like a blazing, bronze inferno and she was certain that she would win. And, as the BattleRing Master announced the champion, she felt no fear.

_[“And her opponent! Hailing from the lava flows of ClumPraxxon, The reigning Arena Champion, THE GREAT WALL, FIGHTING-5098!”]_

Barai was shocked when she saw the Praxxon. They looked like a 6-foot-tall pile of rock, rolling their way across the floor.

She laughed. For a species that were known for being enormous, they were relatively small, not much larger than her. And they didn’t even have arms and legs.

_This must have been one of the reject_ _Praxxons,_ she decided.

Surely this couldn’t be her opponent. How the hell did they get to be champion?

The pile of rock came to rest in front of her and she couldn’t help but taunt them a bit.

“Heya, Rocky,” she teased them, “are you ready to crumble?”

She laughed. She kept laughing right until the buzzer sounded for the bout to begin.

But when the buzzer rang, she stopped laughing. Suddenly, upon the sound of the match beginning, the pile of rock transformed magically into an 8-foot-tall behemoth with arms and legs and a very pissed off expression.

It took her all of a second to realize she’d horribly misjudged the situation.

_Shapeshifting. Nobody said anything about shapeshifting!_

And in the second that followed that, the fight was on.

Well, fight was the technical term for what was happening. It was painfully one-sided. She sidestepped their first few punches, countering them with a stab of the ornate spear. It pinged off them like it would, well, a rock. There wasn’t so much as a divot made. A few more swings from 5098, and she stabbed at them again. Still no effect, the spear didn’t even chip the surface. It wasn’t affecting the spear though either; If anything the only damage it was doing was making her hand sting with the vibration every time the contact was made.

Standing opposed to the champion, she lowered her shoulders a bit to square up.

_Ok. Time for a change in tactics,_ she decided, her intense gaze focused on the rock creature. _Let’s get the big guy off his feet._

Manu-5098 came after her once more. She let them have a few more swipes, dodging them all before she maneuvered behind them and shoved the spear between their “legs” in an attempt to trip them up. Instead, she watched as the space between their legs grew shut, the rock turning downward and engulfing the spear before the Praxxon moved themself sideways jerking her to the floor sharply.

“Goddammit,” she swore as she hit the ground. She wasn’t there long though, and she felt a sharp pain as the Praxxon grabbed her by the left arm and picked her up off the ground. They held her in midair, her feet dangling dangerously. It wasn’t a safe place to be in, but then few in the Arena were and she wasn’t giving up. She struggled against his grip, but couldn’t get free, watching as 5098 reopened the gap for his legs and snatched the spear from there.

Now she was getting frightened. The Praxxon picked up the spear and, with what she could only imagine was an expression of sickening delight, stabbed at her.

She dodged.

Using all her strength, she swung her body upwards, violently breaking the arm the bastard was gripping in the process, but avoiding most of the blow, the spear instead slicing into her calf muscle, ripping it open like a sheet of tissue paper.

_Fucking vibro weapons._

The Praxxon, out of sheer shock, dropped her, allowing her to scurry away.

She was hurt. Really hurt. The pain in her destroyed arm was excruciating as it hung broken at her side, the bone sticking out of her forearm. Meanwhile, her leg, while still somewhat functional, had been deeply lacerated and was doing little in the realm of supporting her weight. Barai knew that she wouldn’t bleed to death immediately from either wound, her **_Vonto-Mat_** Biotech implant would prevent that. There was no excitement in a fighter bleeding out to end a fight. The implants tended to mitigate blood loss from wounds during battle, one of the many wondrous, seemingly impossible feats of magic, medicine, and genetic manipulation they were capable of. However, if she took too long, no amount of Biotech engineering would save her from death.

Then again, she had a sneaking suspicion that however the fight would end, it would do so quickly. She was either going to find a way to slay the monster or become just another of its victims. And as she stood there, watching as the Praxxon stalked her down, that horrible, magnificent weapon in his hand, she realized her goose might really be cooked.

But she still wasn’t giving up.

Plotting her next move, she lured the champion over to the wall. Getting them into just the right position, Barai waited until they were almost upon her and swinging the spear, when she moved aside, grabbing the spear with her good arm and using the wall to leap upwards. Her momentum jerked the spear free and as she leaped over them, she spun the spear towards them, stabbing downward into their head with all her might. Except, again, the spear just bounced off without effect, and she landed behind the beast, the weapon clattering aside as she rolled out into a somersault. 

Now she was pissed. Rolling right back onto her feet, she headed for the spear again… only to be cut off as the Praxxon, not even moving, extended their arm outward like some sort of rocky go go gadget arm and stopped her. She managed to pick up the spear, but the alien had ahold of her again, and this time they weren’t letting go, their suddenly enormous hand wrapped around her torso.

She was fucked. She squirmed and thrashed, but it was no use, the rock had sealed itself shut around her.

The **_Spaza_** began to punch her, obviously not as hard as they could, instead just toying with her. It still hurt though, both her body and her dignity, and while she tried not to let go of the spear, it was knocked to the ground beneath her. Next, the **_Manu_** began to slam her against the wall, and she could feel her ribs, and spine cracking.

It hurt like hell, and the grip around her was getting tighter making it hard to breathe. She tried to scream, but the wind was beaten out of her and she just gasped for air.

Finally, the Praxxon got bored. Releasing their hold, they dropped what was left of Barai onto the ground in an inglorious heap.

The crowd was screaming, their disapproval clear. Any notions they had of Manu-9174 winning the fight had been extinguished. Their precious Bronze Curl Woman was about to become the latest disposal and it was as though the viewers hoped, were they to scream loud enough, the champion would spare her. The bastard didn’t care; they took a moment to make a motion similar to the ones Barai had made at the start of the fight, before returning attention to her once more.

They positioned themself over her and prepared to make the kill.

Terrified, Tina looked around for anything that could save her. She was almost fully incapacitated, her entire body throbbing and refusing to move. Her brain was screaming at her to escape, but all she could do was lie there, waiting for her demise. Despite that, she was in full blown survival mode now and she frantically searched for a way out of her situation. With the rock alien towering above her, absorbing the vitriol of the crowd, Barai noticed the vibro spear on the ground, within her reach, although barely.

It was her only remaining hope.

Finally done gloating, the Praxxon placed one hand down onto her, pinning her back to the floor, and reached up with their other hand to finish her off. She stretched, reaching for the spear as they did so, and just as they were about to strike, her hand found it, and, in a blind panic, she shoved the spear upwards towards their face. It was a move she normally would avoid instinctively in a fight – blinding was forbidden and to win through cheating was a worse outcome than simply being killed – but as injured as she was, panic and fear had taken over and her deepest fighting instincts were being overpowered by the drive to survive.

But deep in her mind, she had enough coherence to register what was happening and she realized that it would still be no use. She expected it to ping off as it had before, sealing her fate. Instead, the spear somehow found its mark, piercing 5048’s face in the vicinity of where their nose would be (if they had one) and driving upwards. The **_Saa-Spaza_** let out a primal scream as thick black ooze shot from the wound, splashing onto their intended victim. They staggered backwards, letting go of Barai and flailing their arms for a moment.

She couldn’t believe it. She’d managed to hurt the champion… badly.

Regaining her wits, she gathered all her remaining strength and forced herself to move, crawling away from the thrashing beast, clearing away from the champion as they tried to recover.

They didn’t.

After a few moments of frantic waving and struggling, the alien let out a low groan and fell to the floor, disintegrating into a pile of rocks and fragments upon impact.

Barai looked on with astonishment from her place on the floor. The buzzer sounded signaling the end of the match, and the crowd became positively unhinged.

She was stunned. Everything hurt, her arm was mangled, her leg was bleeding, she had more broken and fractured bones than she could count and, while she could breathe again it was painful to do so. But she had survived.

Somehow, she was alive.

Beyond that, she had done it. She had won.

She was champion.

A pair of Gorosians came over to try and help her to her feet. But, try as she might, her body was too badly broken to stand.

[“Stand, and receive your reward,”] the one growled at her in Gorosian.

She sighed. She was excited about winning, but her pain was too great and with her head hung, she replied, speaking English so the translator could understand, “I am sorry, Master. My injuries are too great. I cannot stand.”

The Gorosian grunted and, with a look at his associate, reached down to physically drag her upward, the two of them holding her in a standing position for the fans to see.

The fight had been brutal, but Barai knew the people needed to see her standing tall. She was sad she couldn’t do it herself, but knew that her wounds would be healed before long and she’d be back on her own feet in no time.

She looked around at the adoring fans and soaked in the moment, beaming as she heard the official announcement made.

_[“Guests of the Arena, it is my highest honor to present to you, the NEW GREATEST CHAMPION OF THE ARENA… THE BRONZE CURL WOMAN FIGHTING-9174!!!!”]_

She smiled, no longer feeling the agony of her wounds through the adrenaline. Basking in the glory she came to a firm, yet inevitable decision.

_They are never taking this away from me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> Next chapter involves the fallout from the fight and (finally) Shane and Tina meeting each other. It's titled "Small World, Big Galaxy" and I hope to have it up soon!


	10. Small World, Big Galaxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tina (Barai) and Shane McMahon (Cathal) finally meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, the time has finally come for our couple to meet! 
> 
> I apologize for all the Gorosian in this chapter. I did my best to translate it, and I'll put the meanings at the end. Trust me, I fought with this chapter for some time before deciding on this.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Barai was shocked.

It had been six revolutions since she’d arrived at the **_Heig’on_**. In that time she’d risen to new heights and suffered new lows, all for the entertainment of the fans and the drive to survive.

And now she was champion.

The fight had been nigh impossible to win, but she’d done it, succeeding where nobody ever had before. Immediately after the fight, she’d been taken to the medbay, where her wounds were mended, and her body cleaned. Usually, the post-match bustle happened before the trip to the medbay, something about the appeal of a victor bearing the scars of battle, but in that instance, she was far too injured to do anything until they put her back together and pumped about two pints of blood into her. She was so badly destroyed, that even with the entire medical team treating her, it still took two hours before she could attend to any further business. Barai really did appreciate the **_Orpaha_** healers. She couldn’t imagine how wretched life and battle in the Arena would be if she wasn’t fully healed between every fight.

After she was healed, she was put in front of a camera for an interview. Again, it was unusual to wait that long afterward, but Barai figured that the _**Heig’on N’aahj** _didn’t want their new cash cow to die before they were done milking her. She found out in the post-match interview that **_Manu-5048_** had been completely undefeated since arriving at the arena many revolutions ago. That only served to boost Barai’s ego even more and she told the reporters that nothing was going to dethrone her. Whoever they brought in from the farthest reaches of the galaxy; she’d be ready. All takers, she’d destroy them all.

Eventually, the interview ended and she was taken back into the depths of the compound. As she was led to the back, the lead attendant, a Vash-Yvvara **_Tu-Vaa’Dan_** addressed her.

“Congratulations, **_Manu-9174_**! You have been awarded the highest honors a **_Manua_** can achieve. For your achievement, we have granted you an audience with one of the Grand Coordinators. He is awaiting you in his chamber. You shall be escorted there shortly.”

She nodded. The rush had long since worn off, thankfully, and she took a moment to calm herself down. By that point, she had learned how to speak to her superiors, and it wouldn’t do to piss them off so soon after her championship victory.

“ ** _Yo-Ti-Vaa’Dan_**. If it pleases, I eagerly await his company.”

Unlike when she had first arrived, 9174 was no longer physically dragged around. She was escorted, yes. But never grabbed or pulled.

There was one stop yet to make: the photographer. Much like a photoshoot from Earth, she was photographed posing with her crown, flexing her muscles, and mugging for the camera. In previous shoots, it had been explained to her that the **_Heig’on_** viewers loved to see their victors wearing the proof of their victory. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Barai was sad that the cameras wouldn’t be able to record her beaten and bloody with her crown. With all the glory she’d achieved, It’d make a hell of a photo op and she was ready to throw everything into being the perfect champion for her adoring fans.

Finally, when that was completed, she was led away to prepare for her meeting. She was given a quick, final rundown of etiquette by a friendly **_Soto_** ; he was an aged MoqWaan who, despite being an alien, was one of the more attractive beings that she had encountered since arriving, with his pale green skin and rugged brown horns. By that point, it was about the 18th hour or “ ** _Gom_** ” in Gorosian. Despite the days in the compound being roughly equal to Earth, there were only 20 hours/ ** _Goma_** in that span and each **_Gom_** was 30 minutes or “ ** _Redda_** ”. Normally, lights out for **_Oyv_** in the compound was at 18:15, and with it already being nearly the 18th hour, Barai was exhausted. Her usual post-match meal had been deferred with the promise of a feast the following day, and while she’d been given something akin to a nutrition bar, she was both tired and hungry and just wanted to go to sleep. Still, an audience with a Grand Coordinator? That wasn’t something you dared refuse. After her lesson, she was met by the same Tu- ** _Vaa’Dan_** who had addressed her previously and led through the maze of passageways until she reached a large, purple-painted door with two G’Kona guards. 

_G’Kona, huh?_ She noted. _They must really want to protect what’s in here._

The Yvvaran, speaking a language that Barai didn’t recognize (G’Kona, maybe?) gave what must have been orders to the guards, before waving his wrist over a panel on the door. The guards gave a salute as the door opened into a new section of the Compound that she’d never seen before. The hallway – it wasn’t the harsh, cold, unwelcoming steel that the **_Oyv_** sections held. This new area looked brightly lit, with wood-paneled walls and a carpeted floor.

Her jaw dropped. She’d never seen such luxury since arriving. The stark contrast between the one side of the door and the other was like night and day and she stared for several moments before she was startled from her daze by a hand jabbed into her back.

“Move,” the Yvvaran told her. Shaken back into focus, she headed through the door and into the decorated hallway. Her escort team followed her, and she was led through a new series of passages, all in that new style, before reaching an unguarded door with another panel on it, similar to the one outside the section divider. The Yvvaran waved his wrist over that one as well, pushing a circle on the display. A tone sounded, and after a moment, the door slid open and she was led inside.

It was an office, and boy was it lavish! She tried to stop and look around, but instead, she was jabbed in the back once more, as the Yvvaran attendant pointed at a chair set in the center of the room.

“Sit,” he commanded. “Sit and wait. He will be with you shortly.”

Barai again did as she was told and took her seat. With a final parting warning about what would be in store for her, were she to act out against the **_Ti-N’aahj_** (surprise, it involved the Living Hell) the Yvvaran attendant then turned and left, entrusting her to the two Gorosian guards who remained behind, flanking the door.

She looked around at her surroundings from her chair. It was a cozy set up, with a large carved wooden desk placed near the back wall, covered in all the supplies and gadgets one would imagine a boss’ desk holding, albeit with 9th Epoch Gorosian flair. Along the wall on the right side was a closed door leading to another room, something that vaguely resembled one of those food replicators from Star Trek, and a large television-type viewing monitor built into a panel above the replicator. Like all the rooms and corridors in the **_Heig’on_** Arena, the ceiling was tall compared to what would be built on Earth, primarily to account for the different sized species walking the halls. There was more than enough room to mount a large TV, and she wondered if the **_Ti-N’aahj_** watched the **_Heig’on_** matches over the course of the day.

_Probably not,_ she decided. The boss types of the Arena. She’d always imagined them as just being useless delegators and assholes who committed atrocities via paperwork. Supreme forbid they ever have to face the death and brutality caused by their actions.

As she had entered, she noticed a small station set up near the door of a mirror and what she swore looked like a comb, but she was moving too fast to see clearly. Obviously, it hadn’t been a comb, whoever she was meeting was likely bald, so she just figured it was some other tool or utensil from the future she was unfamiliar with.

However, of particular note was the left wall of the room, where a small shelving unit and several drawers were set up. There, lying flush with the wall partway up, was what looked like a window, but wasn’t. There were no windows in the compound, and it was an inside wall. Looking at it closer, she realized it was a video screen, programmed to show a view of… something. The scene looked like an alien city at night, with the view slightly dynamic to show the occasional shuttlecraft or whatever buzzing around.

She couldn’t help but stare. She knew it was fake, but it was her first view of “outside” she’d had since arriving. And it was beautiful.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door by the television sliding open. She didn’t bother looking, she would be greeted soon enough by the N’aahj within, and on instinct, she lowered her eyes. This was a big shot she was dealing with today. One wrong move and her hard-fought victory would be stripped from her and she’d find herself with a one-way ticket to disposal… or worse. She suddenly felt nervous at the prospect of messing up. That damn submissiveness again, she had to self-talk her confidence into returning before the **_Ti-N’aahj_** came in.

_Don’t think about the or worse,_ she told herself.

_This is just another fight. A new type of battlefield._

_You have your training. You can do this._

_Breathe._

She heard him before she saw him.

“ ** _Saa-Spaza. Hot Quo i Paa-Katran. SolTerra Nuz’tu, o Cord? Ra’am Tor’k’twee Proo’nurata Ra’ad Sazt Tor’ooq, Jurri’quado?_** _”_

The man was speaking straight Gorosian, but surprisingly her universal translator wasn’t working on him. Even stranger, the translator didn’t seem to be processing the speech at all. Usually, even when language wasn’t translated, there was a slightly tinny sound to it as it filtered through the Ran-Mat. But whoever this was, their voice was going straight to her ears.

Still, despite that, she understood what he was saying, six revolutions of Gorosian language lessons paying off.

_“So, Greatest Champion. You’ve come a long way. 21 st Century Earth, I hear? They must have built them strong back then.”_

Naturally, the direct translation wasn’t as neat and clean, but in her time there, she’d learned to pick up the nuances of Gorosian and translate them between the languages. She said nothing, and as the man walked into the room, her eyes went wide, and her heart froze.

It was Shane McMahon.   
_The_ Shane McMahon  
The same one she had adored on Earth and who had vanished all those years – no, centuries ago.

He was at least ten, if not twenty years older than when she had last seen him and was starting to look rough around the edges. His hair was grey and in desperate need of a haircut, while his facial features had hardened, the boyish charm completely drained from his appearance, but it was him.

She couldn’t hide the shock on her face. She knew she should be addressing him formally as a Grand Coordinator and Grand-Master, but like having the bottom ripped out of a container, all of her practiced and trained etiquette and responses drained from her brain, and against her own will, her lips formed the words “Oh my God.”

It was true. It was all true. Her hypothesis had been correct, and then some. Not only had he been scooped as she’d suspected, but he was still there, and he was a Grand Master. A _human_ Grand-Master and Grand Coordinator and at that moment, her brain was trying to process at least a dozen emotions simultaneously and failing at all of them.

Shane noticed. He must have. Quickly, in Gorosian, he ordered the guards out of the room. Then, he hit buttons on the door to seal it before quickly having a seat at his desk.

She went to speak, but he held up a hand to stop her. He opened a drawer at his desk and pulled out a remote that Barai recognized from her language lessons as a Translator Toggle Switch. With a beep, he turned off her universal translator.

The room was silent. The only sound was Barai’s ragged, alarmed breathing. It was really him. Shane McMahon in the human flesh, standing before her. She couldn’t believe it.

Shane’s face was serious as he double-checked some settings on a panel at his desk. Then, having a seat in his chair, he turned his attention to her and smiled.

“So,” he said to her, “ ** _Manu-9174_**. I take it you know me.”

And just like that, Tina LaMotte had returned, her short-lived attempt to bury her foiled after only a couple of days. His voice, speaking English – it had an instantaneous effect on Barai, destroying the walls she’d erected and dragging her past back to the present. She had no idea how, but it was like a form of regenerative _Pre_ -Traumatic-Stress-Disorder, with her mind flashing back to a time before the **_Heig’on_** and its bloodsports, back to when she wasn’t an **_Oyv_** , but a person. Rising from the ashes of the battlefield, the charred remains of her original personality came flaming back to life, resurrected by the sound of his voice.

Her **_Manu_** self had gone into remission, the name Barai just a whisper on the wind. She was human again. And fuck was she excited.

“Know you,” Tina replied, “Grand-Master, you were my favorite! My hero! And now you’re a **_Ti-N’aahj_**! _”_

Shane shook his head.

“Don’t call me that. At least, not the hero part, I’m nobody’s hero here. And you can lay off Gorosian formality, I switched off your translator. We’re both speaking just English now. They can’t understand us as long as you speak English.”

“Really? Wait, why couldn’t I understand you earlier.”

“I prefer not to use my translator,” he explained. “As **_Ti-Vaa’Dan_** , I have access to the best tutors, plus some… other learning techniques. I can speak or understand most languages in this sector fluently by now. **_Gorosakulnt, Yvvarak, Jakkoi, Waananiku, Tin’u-Vak’mi, Ixxa,_** the whole lot. I’ve even been learning some old Earth languages like Mandarin and Hindi. They’re all considered dead languages here but the **_Ran-Mat_** have a rough time with SolTerran speech, so it helps to speak it directly. I’ve learned much since showing up here, I’m something of a language expert by now. A regular Babel Fish. Regardless, you can talk however you wish in here. I’ve sealed the room. What’s said here, stays here. Clear?”

The new champ couldn’t help but smile. Gorosian was the only real language she knew outside of English but, much like how a person on Earth might know the words _Espanol_ or _Deutsch_ , she’d picked up the native terms for most of the languages she encountered daily. And the way he rattled off the names of the different languages while simultaneously using the native term for each – she could tell he was proud of his knowledge.

_Also a bit cocky._

_Geez, he’s been here how long now, and he still hasn’t lost his attitude._

_Good to know._

“Clear?” he reiterated.

She'd been lost in thought.

Quickly, she bowed her head, and replied politely, “ ** _Yo’Ti-Vaa’Dan_** ”

“Please stop,” Shane told her. “Eyes on me Champ.”

She cautiously lifted her head to look at him. It was a hell of a battle going on in her brain, her conditioning as a slave vs the strange excitement that he was invoking. At the moment, neither side was winning, and she wasn’t quite sure which one should.

Shane seemed to know, however, saying, “I give you permission to speak freely. There. I’ve spoke it directly. Talk to me like you’re a person, if you can remember how. And if you want a name, you call me Cathal. It’s what they call me around here. Just… don’t call me… you know…”

Tina nodded and, continuing to look at him, breathlessly mouthed the name “Shane”.

He nodded.

“Yeah, that. It’s a deadname at this point anyway,” he said bitterly, “I couldn’t use it if I wanted to.”

Tina nodded. Except…

_Cathal?_ She thought. _As in C-A-T-H-A-L?_

“I vacationed in Ireland once,” she commented, “Isn’t the T supposed to be silent?”

Shane rolled his eyes.

“Technically but moving on.”

She had to stifle a giggle and as she did, she saw amusement flicker in Shane’s expression. After a moment, he leaned back in his chair and stretched his hands out onto his desk, drumming them gently.

“I have to say though, my English is rusty. Nowhere to use it here. So sorry if I sound off.”

“Doing great so far.”

“Good. You know, when your record said SolTerra 21, I was expecting somewhere 2030, not turn of the millennium. When they get you? 2006, 2007? When are you from that you know me?”

“2002. And frankly, Earth records aren’t well kept here, so I understand. Here, there’s little known difference between 1902 and 1992. It’s all caveman tech to the Gorosians.”

“True. It’s nice to see someone else who knows that.”

“Agreed.”

“So, you know me. You are a fan, were you?”

His remark flustered the Champion.

“Yeah. Big one,” she admitted. “Every week on TV. RAW, SmackDown, Heat, the whole works. Even the weekend morning shows from time to time. I always hoped you’d come to town, I lived in Sacramento, but it just didn’t work out. I did get to see you in Houston though. That street fight was something else. How you pulled off that Van Terminator thingy with the trash can, just oh my God, wow. It was just - holy shit how did you do that? How did you learn it? One side to the other, it was amazing, just incredible, I mean, damn…

She was stammering and she knew it. Talk about fangirl shock. She’d been stuck in that hellhole for years now and she still felt her cheeks blushing just seeing him there. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to handle her Grand-Master being her favorite wrestler (and celebrity crush), but if she was going to survive this, she’d have to figure it out soon.

Her nervousness was eased slightly by the amused smile on Shane’s face.

“It’s an interesting story,” he told her, “but one for another day. And relax, I’m not going to hurt you.”

She took a deep breath and collected her thoughts before continuing.

“I was wondering if they'd taken you. I thought they might have, but I’d hoped not. I didn’t want to think you’d ended up a slave too. Worse, I was afraid they’d scooped you, stolen all your ideas, then tossed you with the disposals. I never imagined you’d be a Master, let alone a Grand-Master. How’d you manage to land such a cushy gig?”

Shane frowned for a moment before responding, “Cushy… cushy…”

He trailed off, a look of concentration on his face, as though he couldn’t remember what the term meant.

_Ah_ , Tina thought.

_Rusty English._

Speaking up, she offered, “High life and comfy. Posh, cozy, all that.”

Understanding dawned on Shane’s face.

“Ah,” he said, “ ** _Drutag’tin_**. Lush. Got it. **_Taa-Amahodi o Quo Pt’akle Puuni-Oyalln_**.”

It was certainly interesting to hear him blend Gorosian and English like he did. She recognized his one statement as being a lament about forgetting things, but the other word? **_Drutag’tin_**? She didn’t recognize that word herself, but she figured it was just the equivalent term for cushy. There was so much she had learned since arriving, but it appeared there was still a great deal more to absorb.

That is if the **_Vaa’Dan_** felt like teaching it to her. With all the miserable censorship and propaganda, it was a wonder she learned anything.

Maybe I’m not as fluent in Gorosian as I thought.

Shane paused for a moment before continuing, as though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to share his story or not. But, after a few seconds, he sighed and continued.

I was taken as **_Laal_** – an assistant, not an **_Oyv_** , the potential for advancement was always there. Of course, I wasn’t given the liberty to refuse the job either and was still stripped of my given name, but I made the most of it, rose to Coordinator, Master, and eventually Grand-Master. What can I say, I come with experience.”

Tina nodded slightly, understanding what he was saying. He didn’t start quite at the bottom as she had, but much like her, he’d been scooped for his previous experience and, while he may not have literally battled his way to the top, she was certain his ascension was just as difficult as hers. That said, she was jealous. Even winning the tournament, she was still just glorified property, but Shane? He was a Grand Master! He was running the show, one of the big shots pulling the strings.

To be honest? It was the only place in the entire miserable scene he belonged. He was a McMahon, after all, heir to the throne of Sports Entertainment. It made sense.

Speaking up again, she said, “You’ve got a lot of your dad in you.”

“I know,” he replied, “might be too much. I certainly have a knack for implementing his practices. But I’ve – I’ve changed, **_Spaza_**. I’m not him anymore. That hero of yours, he’s not here now. Hasn’t been for a while, and I don’t think he ever will be again. My wife wouldn’t even recognize me now.”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Wow, I haven’t thought about her in at least twenty cycles. **_G’naad_** **_Yuqiint_** , what has the place done to me. **_Pint’u’nok_**. It’s for the best.”

Raising her eyebrows slightly, she was shocked to hear him talk. G’naad? That was a cuss word. Naturally, she hadn’t learned about those in her language lessons, but with as long as she’d spent in the Heig’on, she’d learned a few things. G’naad, along with it’s other ‘naad kin (K’naad B’naad, and T’naad) were cusswords; Obscene interjections that, like so much of the Gorosian language, was dependent on the prefix for the meaning. She couldn’t be certain of the direct translation, but she’d gathered that G’naad was somewhere around “Shit” level. And adding **_Yuqiint_** onto the end like that?

The loose English translation would be “Fucking Hell” with “Hell” being the Gorosian word for a curse. It was a phrase she’d heard occasionally around the compound, but usually by Gorosian **_Manua_** who got into fights. Tina had no idea what sort of regulations there were regarding language for Grand-Masters, but it certainly wasn’t Gorosian for polite company or any company for that matter. Then again, Shane always did have a foul mouth. And as a Grand-Master speaking to a slave, it wasn’t like she could do anything about it.

Also, she was starting to see what he meant about his English being rusty. She could tell he hadn’t spoken it in years; his syntax kept getting tangled and his language kept drifting back towards Gorosian despite his own instructions not to do so. Technically, he was a Grand-Master, so he could speak freely, but she wondered if it was subconscious at that point. If it was true he never used his universal translator, then he wouldn’t have been accustomed to speaking English anymore. It was mostly intact, but his bilingual speech reminded her of how Eddie Guerrero would break out _en Espanol_ mid promo. She found it rather cute.

Tina tried to offer some comfort.

“Well, you seem the same to me. You still seem like a nice guy. I mean, I never knew you back then. But you seem nice enough.”

Shane huffed a bit.

“And you’re kind for _Ii **Saa’Spaz** a_. Someone with so much blood on her hands? How many Monto fights have you been in now? How many have you killed? Your attitude is nothing like I expected. I’ve watched you, **_Manu_**. In the BattleRing you’re like a demon, a **_W’mon’Yuqiint_** tearing down everything that stands in your way. I’ve watched you, you’re incredibly talented… and incredibly violent. Hell, even tonight. Nobody had ever beaten 5048. That’s the only one of their kind we’ve ever had here. The Praxxons, they are too powerful. No point in having a fighter nobody can defeat. But you did. You found a way and now you’re champion. I… I’m not sure what I expected, but it isn’t this. You’re downright cheerful. Why do you think that is?”

Tina shrugged in a manner that even she didn’t understand. Hell, nothing about what her brain was doing made sense. It was as though she’d fully reverted, and she had no idea how to handle or explain it.

Still, she knew what caused it and knew better than to deny a **_Ti-Vaa’Dan_** his explanation, regardless of informality.

“Well, frankly,” she told him, “the moment I saw you, it was like I was 23 all over again, sitting at home, watching RAW. I guess I didn’t realize how much I missed you, S- er, Cathal. Cathal, Cathal, Cathal. It’s nice to call someone by name for a change. Rolls off the tongue.”

“Yeah, don’t get used to it. And that explains you. I’m never this at ease. Hell, as far as I was concerned, up until five redds ago, the… well, The Boy Wonder? Young Simba? He was dead and disposed of, left to rot on a burnt-out planet centuries ago. So why now, why Ton’Toan? What changed?”

Tina thought for a minute.

“Maybe I caught you off guard? I doubt you’ve met many other humans since arriving.”

“Bullshit,” he swore, in English this time, “There has to be more than that. You don’t get to the top of shit mountain without learning to deal with whatever crap might get thrown at you. I’ve seen things you couldn’t dream of. I’ve done things as well. I certainly wasn’t expecting to see someone here that knew who I was, but a little surprise never stopped me before. So who the hell are you?”

He was getting agitated, that much was clear. Between his confusion and her own, tensions were beginning to mount. She needed to diffuse the situation and fast, and by that point, the fastest method she knew to calm an irritated Master was total supplication.

“ ** _Ti-Vaa’Dan_** ,” she said, bowing her head, “I’m an **_Oyv_**. Just a human _**Oyv**_. SolTerra 21, 2002 to be exact. I’m a nobody. Please forgive me for any trouble I’ve caused.”

Shane made a noise, deep in his throat that was part growl, part gag.

“Oh my GOD, will you stop,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Stop cow-towing or I will throw you out. I mean it. You’re champion now. Act like it.”

Tina raised her eyes, but not her head.

“Yes, sir…” she offered.

Shane cocked his head slightly as if to say, “Good, but you can do better.”

Tina raised her head, staring Shane directly in the eyes.

“Yes, Cathal,” she told him, her voice firm and direct. “And I have no idea why either of us are like this. Some sort of regression, maybe? We are from the same era, although I arrived six revolutions ago.”

Her demeanor seemed to satisfy him, and he nodded before responding.

“Wow. I’ve been here…” he paused to think, “I think this next cycle will be 25 revolutions. Frankly, I don’t even know how old I am in Earth years anymore. I’ve lost count. I know the bio-modifiers mess around with aging, so I can’t even go by that. I’d say at least 40? 50?”

“You certainly don’t look 50, if you ask me. And you still look like you. I know you, he’s… that other guy is gone, but you look like him. Older, maybe. But still the same. It’s like looking at a ghost. Or a dream.”

“A dream?”

Tina paused. Should she tell him? It wasn’t her place, she knew that, but if they were going to bare their souls to each other in the first ten minutes, might as well go all out.

“I’ve been dreaming about you, ever since you disappeared. You were calling to me. You told me to come with you, to follow you. I guess I did.”

“ ** _Wenniu_** ,” Shane mused. “ ** _Saadge’_ _Wenniu_** ”

Now it was Tina’s turn to frown.

“ ** _Wenniu?_** ” she asked. She didn’t know that word.

“It means amazing. I suppose they don’t teach those words to **_Manua_**.”

“No, they don’t. But yeah. **_Wenniu_**.”

Shane smiled warmly. He was at ease once more and frankly, so was she. It was nice to be treated like a person for a change.

“It’s a small world, Cathal,” Tina offered.

“Nope,” Shane replied, “Big giant galaxy. You know what? There is a gala thrown to celebrate the tournament tomorrow. Would you care to accompany me?”

Tina sputtered.

“Wha... is that allowed???” she questioned. She knew they were both LFWs and on some levels at equal genetic footing, but Shane was a **_Ti-Vaa’Dan_** and she was a simple **_Manu_**. A **_Saa’Spaza Manu_** , but still a **_Manu_**. She’d been a slave so long; she’d forgotten what it was like to have true freedom.

Shane realized her apprehensions and got up from his desk. He moved around to the side where Tina was sitting and sat down on the desk in front of her.

“I’m technically considered one of your Grand-Masters,” he reminded her. “If I say you’ll accompany me, you’ll have to. But honestly, I think I’d like it better if you agreed.”

Tina hesitated. A grand ball on her favorite celebrity’s arm? That was almost too much to hope for. Would it be considered a date? No, of course not. He was her Grand-Master. But then, he was asking permission which was unheard of in this case. Perhaps...

_Breathe._

_Breathe in, say yes, breathe out._

_Tell him yes you idiot._

Her brain was screaming at her.

“Yes,” she said, trying valiantly to keep the terror from her voice, “I would love to, Grand-Master.”

“Nope, in here, you call me Cathal. But only in here. Wouldn’t want to get too cozy out there. Oh, and by the way, what’s your name?”

“I am **_Manu-9174_** ,” she said, almost robotically as her programming kicked in.

Shane gave a chiding look.

“I asked for your name, not your designation. Most slaves around here give themselves some sort of name besides their given one,” he said kindly.

“Oh,” she replied. That made more sense.

“I like to call myself Barai, after my number,” she told him.

“Barai, huh? Like **_Bar’hy_**? 74? Someone as successful as you I’d think you’d come up with something better than that.”

Tina scowled.

“I’m a **_Manu_**. Names are for people, not objects,” she said bitterly.

Shane pursed his lips and was quiet for a moment, before humming and replying, “Hmmm, then we’ll have to get you one, a proper one. Something great and suited for a champion. I’ll come up with something that you can use for yourself, at least. Being **_Saa’Spaza_** entails some high tier privileges, perhaps even some promotion of sorts. We’ve never had a human **_Saa’Spaza_** before, or any other **_Spaza_** besides The Great Wall, so who knows what will happen? _”_

Tina smiled sadly at the thought of having an acknowledged name again. It was a nice sentiment, but she doubted it would come true.

Suddenly, Shane leaned forward to peer directly into her eyes. She felt her eyes divert away – her programming once more – but she felt drawn to his stare. Somehow it was like his eyes were beckoning her, and she met them and did not look away.

“You do have a name,” he told her, his voice deep and hushed. “I may be gone but somewhere, inside, you’re still alive. Don’t forget her. That’s still you, under all that blood and brainwashing, and someday, it could be again. Don’t give up hope. Turn enough heads, gain enough fame… you might just convince someone to purchase your freedom yet.”

For a moment, Tina allowed herself to hope. She couldn’t go home; she knew that much. But freedom? True, honest to Supreme freedom? It was more than she could hope for!

But how would she get it? How much attention did she have to earn before someone bought her ticket out of there? She was champion, how much higher could she go? Or, possibly, was there another meaning to his words. Shane was a Grand-Master, was there something he knew that she didn’t. Actually, she realized, there were many things he knew that she didn’t, and whatever the road before her held, she’d have to learn to traverse it fast. If they’d never had another Spaza besides the Praxxon, this would be uncharted territory for everyone else as well.

Maybe, if she was lucky, Shane could accompany her for the ride.

He took a step towards her and placed a gentle hand under her chin, his thumb grazing over the edge of her cheek. The sensation burned through Tina's skin like liquid fire. She couldn’t understand why, but his touch felt positively magnetic, as though his hand was meant to be there.

Shane, meanwhile, had an odd look on his face as he touched her. She couldn’t be sure, but it looked like surprise. After a moment he removed his hand. Moving around the desk to reactivate her Translator and unlock the doors, he gave one last smile.

“ ** _O Tog’K’twee Cinda Hot Sa Tor’tu’toan,_** ” he told her as he hit a button on his desk. The doors opened and the guards entered to escort her out.

“ ** _Suu’Kanta_** ,” he added before she left. And with that, they parted ways, the guards escorting her out of Shane’s office and back towards the Oyv section.

Tina knew not to smile in front of the guards, but inside she was beaming. The Gorosian knowledge in her brain translated his speech.

He said he’d see her tomorrow, followed by, “Good Travels”. People in this time didn’t say goodbye or farewell. They said Good Travels. It was the standard sendoff. Honestly, though, Tina wasn’t concerned about that as much as she was the tomorrow part.

_Tomorrow,_ she thought silently  
 _I can’t wait._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gorosian Stuff:
> 
> “Saa-Spaza. Hot Quo i Paa-Katran. SolTerra Nuz’tu, o Cord? Ra’am Tor’k’twee Proo’nurata Ra’ad Sazt Tor’ooq, Jurri’quado?”   
> “So, Greatest Champion. You’ve come a long way. 21st Century Earth, I hear? They must have built them strong back then.”
> 
> "Taa-Amahodi o Quo Pt’akle Puuni-Oyalln.”  
> "God I've forgotten so much."
> 
> "W'Mon'Yukiint"  
> "Living Curse" or, with nuance, "Demon"
> 
> "Ton'Toan"  
> "Today"
> 
> "Saadge-Wenniu"  
> "Extremely Amazing"
> 
> “O Tog’K’twee Cinda Hot Sa Tor’tu’toan.”   
> "I will see you tomorrow."
> 
> "Suu'Kanta"  
> "Good Travels"
> 
> Anyway, again, sorry for the Gorosian stuff. It's so much easier when you can watch stuff with subtitles and get the effect of both languages at once. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed this. I have a lot more in store for these two, and after this is where things get spicy!
> 
> Next chapter is: "To Be a Person Again" and deals with Tina at the Championship Gala.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	11. To Be A Person Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tina, fresh off the heels of winning the Tournament, finds herself pampered and presented as the new face of the Heig'on. Attending a lavish gala in her honor, she finds herself the object of everyone's attention. Most importantly, she's the object of her old wrestling crush Shane McMahon's attention.
> 
> However, considering how strangely he's acting, that might not be the best situation to be in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I'm back!
> 
> Sorry it took so long. I've been... doing stuff. Well, doing nothing is more accurate, I've been terribly unmotivated. It should be noted that this story was "completed" before I ever started publishing it, but I've been editing it heavily between chapter postings, trying to make it the best story it can be for the few people who are reading it.
> 
> Anyway, we're closing in on the final few chapters here for part 1 (yes part 1). I only have 15 planned chapters for this story, and this is Chapter 11. So we're nearing the end. I'm publishing both Chapter 11 and 12 tonight because, as you will see, they are too closely connected not to.
> 
> Anyway, for those still reading this, Enjoy. We're almost to the end of the "book".

Tina was excited.

The Championship Ball or **_Saa’Spazara Qyool_** was the type of event that, early on in her life as a **_Manu,_** Tina hadn’t even dreamed of attending.

The tournament which she had won was only held once every ten revolutions. To even be eligible for entry, a **_Manu_** had to prove themselves worthy for several revolutions beforehand. Tina had been lucky in that she’d arrived only four revolutions after the previous one, allowing her to establish her name and earn consideration for the qualifiers. She’d had to kill a lot of people to get there, thankfully all of them aliens (except for that poor woman in the qualifier), but she’d made it. Honestly, killing meant nothing to her anymore. She had stopped viewing her opponents as people. If she was being truthful, she felt the same about herself. Before the previous day, she’d cast aside her given name, and her old life on Earth, along with her humanity was but a distant memory.

Then, the moment she saw Shane McMahon, everything came flooding back. Barai, Manu-9174, the BattleRing, hell the entire blasted **_Heig’on_** had been disposed of, replaced by Tina Rose LaMotte of Sacramento, California. MMA star, internet junkie, and WWE fangirl. She was a human being once more, alive and important. A human being who was face to face, one on one with someone she once dreamed of meeting in person. Shane O Mac, the Heir Apparent, in the flesh, sitting before her. Sure, he was older than what she knew him as, rough and weathered around the edges, but it was still him. And the way his hand felt when he touched her, she’d never experienced anything like it before in her life.

All that time, she’d been dreaming of him, hearing his call to join him, and she had done just that.

And now, as she was being prepared for the Championship Ball as the Greatest Champion herself, she was feeling things she hadn’t felt since being abducted.

Right off the bat, Tina was shocked to find out that her bodysuit was indeed removable, using another of those wand devices that seemed so prevalent in the compound. **_Oyv_** were healed with wands, they were cleaned with wands and now she was being undressed with one. And as the MoqWaan waved the wand along her back and the bodysuit opened, she stepped out of it and saw her body for the first time in over five years.

She was pale, so very pale, but God was she stacked. The bodysuit hid most of the detail and definition, but looking down at her stomach, she could see that she’d developed a hell of a six-pack. Her abs were cut and shredded as were her arms and legs. Her breasts, which had always been relatively small, were practically flat against her chest from the lack of body fat. She wished she had a mirror handy so she could get a proper look but from what she did see, she wasn’t just built like Chyna, she looked like a bodybuilder.

_Damn,_ she thought to herself.

_I’m fucking ripped!_

She didn’t get very long to admire the view though as she was hurried along and into a black undergarment that hugged her skin like the bodysuit, but was of soft, silky material and covered no more than a one-piece bathing suit.

Taken into a secondary room, this time with a mirror, she was sat in a chair and told to relax. She did so and several people moved around her to begin prepping her. They were wearing bodysuits like the one she’d just shed, but theirs were silver and gold, rather than silver and blue, and she realized that they weren’t **_Orbaka_** , they were assistants; **_Laala_** as they were called.

She had actual assistants doting on her!

She was in the real high life now.

The assistants hurried around her, applying makeup and nail appliques that were in a similar vein to Earthly beauty, but just the other side of weird. They wouldn’t have been out of place on one of those strange, otherworldly runway models from Paris, but you’d never see them on a cashier at K-Mart. Also, along with face and nails, assistants were working on her hair, brushing and adorning it with strands of gold and silver. The metallic cords were woven among her curls before it was pulled behind her and into a double braided pattern.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she was amazed at the transformation.

She had been in the **_Heig’on_** for over half a decade, and in that time, she’d forgotten what it was like to be beautiful.

Pride swelled up in her chest as she saw herself blossom. She wasn’t just ripped, she was gorgeous. Maybe not by traditional standards, of course. Most hot-blooded men would rather have a petite, Barbie-type woman than a girlfriend who could benchpress them. But as far as Tina was concerned, she’d never been prettier and since she wasn’t in the market for a husband or any other sort of romance, her opinion was the one that mattered.

As the **_Laala_** dolled her up, one of the Grand-Masters, a Vash-Yvvaran female who appeared far more elegant than the usual Yvvaran sort that Tina was accustomed to, gave her a rundown of her rules and etiquette.

“ ** _Manu-9174_** ,” she spoke, her voice coming in clearly through the translator, “On this night, you are to represent **_sa Heig’on a Manu_** in its finest element. All of your training and lessons on our society and culture, as well as your multitude of victories as a competitor, have brought you to this. You will be giving evidence to the viewing populace of the highest standards and practices of **_sa Heig’on_**. You are not to speak in any way of mistreatment, also not are you to speak of anything regarding poor working conditions or practices. The attendees at the Championship Ball include some of our strongest sponsors and financial backers and must know of the high quality of operation we run here, so anything that might implicate us otherwise is forbidden. Do you comprehend your instructions?”

_Great,_ Tina thought silently, her face remaining stoic and unemotive.

_They want me to lie. Of course. Anything for the glory of the_ **_Heig’on_ ** _._

“ ** _Yo Ti-Vaa'Dan_** ,” she replied. In the years that she’d been there, she’d become accustomed not only to subservience but to absolute emotional compliance. She knew that she was to be on her best behavior and put on a show for the sponsors; anything less and she’d be punished in ways that would have her begging for death… well, that was assuming she was given enough voice to scream.

The **_Laala_** finished up applying her makeup and she was turned to face the Grand-Master. As always, she lowered her eyes, but to her surprise, the **_Vaa’Dan_** commanded her to raise them.

“Elevate your gaze, Champion!” she ordered. “This rotation, and only this rotation you are not an **_Oyv_**. On this rotation, you are a free-being, the Greatest Champion who has earned her place among the honored of this sector. You must no longer be fearful to meet the faces of your Masters, for you have reached a comparative rank among them. The **_Saa’Spaza_** must not cower or shy away from interaction. If you are to be celebrated, you must accept the praise at the level of those bestowing it. This begins a new time period of your life at the Arena. Your days of fighting to survive have ended, **_Manu-9174_**. Now, you exist solely to bring praise and esteem to the Arena. Do you understand, **_Spaza_**?”

Tina was shocked at what the Grand-Master was saying. Was – was she no longer a competitor? Was that what she was saying? Sure, she was still a **_Manu_** , but Tina couldn’t help but wonder if that was why she’d never seen the previous **_Spaza_** in the compound. Perhaps the champion only defended their title once every ten years.

Perhaps the champion only _fought_ once every ten years.

The thought was chilling enough to send a shiver down her spine, and as the meaning of the Yvvaran’s words dawned on her, she felt a new type of disgust bubble. After six revolutions of clawing and shredding her way to the top of the Arena, she was being put out of action, reduced to a walking billboard. Any thrill or praise she might have gained from competing further had been stripped of her with her victory. She had earned the right to hold her head up high but at the cost of the thrill and excitement that brought her there.

It was at that moment that she realized just how accustomed to the feeling of victory she’d become. Knowing then that it’d be ten revolutions before she’d fight again, her championship win suddenly felt hollow.

“Respond, 9174!” the Yvvaran demanded, bringing her out of her thoughts.

_Right. Focus._

_Put on a show. We’ll deal with the lack of action later._

With her eyes raised this time, she replied firmly, “ ** _Yo Ti-Vaa’Dan_**. I will do what I must to bring the highest glory to **_sa Heig’on a Manu_**.”

The answer seemed to satisfy the Yvvaran Master and, with the beauty application complete, the Yvvaran stepped aside to make way for two new **_Laala_** who brought in her attire for the evening. The dress was gorgeous, if unconventional, and looked like it cost a fortune. She was helped into the garment and once secured, the **_Laala_** departed leaving Tina with the Yvvaran and two guards who had entered the room in the meanwhile. The guards, a pair of Gorosians, motioned for her to stand near them, and as she moved to do so, the Grand-Master left Tina with one final word of warning.

“It would be extremely unwise,” she told Tina, “to imagine any notion of escape. This night, you are free and your decisions at the **_Saa’Spazara Qyool_** are your choice. It would be unwise to choose them poorly.”

Tina didn’t need to be told twice.

“ ** _Yo Ti-Vaa’Dan_** ,” she responded and bowed slightly before the guards led her away.

The guards led her through the compound, once more heading in the direction of the Master’s section. However, rather than go through that guarded door, she was taken to the left, down a long passageway, until a new, similarly guarded door was reached.

The guards shared a salute, and the door slid open revealing a hallway similar to the steel-walled ones that the **_Oyv_** resided in, but bigger and with superior lighting. The steel was tinged purple there and the light shone a bright white. However, the steel wasn’t overly polished or shiny, which caused the lights of that section to absorb slightly, rather than glare blindingly. The steel almost looked frosted in the white glow and it served to give the passageway an unearthly feel which, seeing as how they were nowhere near Earth, Tina figured made sense.

Heading through the purple hallways, they passed several large doors, bigger than the ones in her usual areas and each with a Gorosian number etched and painted into it. Eventually, she reached door number 19, and the guards stopped. There were no guards at that door, and it looked like every other door in that section, but Tina suspected it wasn’t. And, sure enough, when the Gorosian guard waved his wrist over the sensor pad, the door slid open, and she was greeted with a short, purple and black corkscrew walled corridor with a diamond-shaped exit at the end. The door at the end of the tunnel had a spiral cut and as she was guided towards it, it spun open showing Tina her first glimpse of outside the compound she’d seen since arriving.

Despite it being early evening, she wasn’t expecting sunlight, and there was none to be found. However, she had at least been expecting a planet and an atmosphere, but when the door opened all she saw was a large platform with a starry sky above it. There was no sign of breathable air and no indication of solid ground. Instead, there appeared to be some sort of energy shield that separated the platform from the space around them.

_Are – are we on a space station?_ She wondered silently.

She was pushed forward and as she traversed what she realized was a landing pad, she did her best to absorb her surroundings. And when she looked to her right, she was surprised at what she saw. There was a large yellow planet hovering far too close for her comfort with swirling patterns and clouds churning on the surface. It was jarring, and for a moment her fight or flight response was activated before she drew closer to the edge of the platform and noticed there was indeed ground beneath her. They weren’t on a space station; the platform was just elevated.

The picture grew clearer and as she remembered her high school astronomy courses, the reality of where she was dawned on her.

_That yellow planet isn’t close, it’s just huge._

_It’s a gas giant._

_And we aren’t on a planet at all._

_We’re on a moon._

She tucked the knowledge away for later and focused her attention forward. There, at the edge of the platform, Shane was waiting for her, and right away she noticed a change in him. Sometime in the past 10 **_goms_** (hours) since she’d seen him he’d gotten a haircut. His hair was still bigger than anything she was used to from Earth, and there was still a good deal of grey in it, but it was much neater and more kempt than it had been the rotation prior. Also, while it was to be expected that they would wear fancy clothes to the ball, he had color in his wardrobe now, another sign of what difference a day could make.

Not that she knew what he usually wore as Grand-Master, for all she knew he wore colors all the time in the Arena. Back on Earth, he’d always been the monochromatic sort, but maybe his opinion on bright colors had changed since being taken.

Regardless, although neither of their attires would be considered black tie back home, they were obviously fancy and expensive. She’d given up long ago on guessing what the composition of the materials around her was. Earth was a dead planet and while most of the elemental building blocks of the universe remained constant, nearly everything was alien besides that. The dress she was wearing now was made of a combination of gemstones (if she had to guess, she’d say some manner of diamonds and emeralds) and thick, pearlescent material, all held together by braids of silver. Shane, meanwhile, was wearing a shimmering silver jacket that looked like fish scales, while his shirt was a rich, cerulean blue and his pants were black and far tighter than anything she’d ever seen him wear on Earth. They showed off the muscle of his legs, which surprised her as she’d never known him to be very muscular in his old life; perhaps he worked out these days. He held out his hand and led her to some sort of space bike. It reminded Tina a bit of the land-speeders from Star Wars, only bigger.

“You ready, Champion?” Shane asked. He had turned on his translator for the occasion as, due to the translators only working when both parties’ devices were activated, he couldn’t afford any miscommunication. He was, after all, still a time-displaced human and was nowhere near the top of the food chain outside the arena.

“Yes, Grand-Master,” she replied, before adding, “you got a haircut.”

“I did,” he confirmed. “Can’t let it grow forever. Yours looks nice too.”

“Wait, are we going to ride there?”

Shane chuckled, patting the side of the speeder. “Meet Annie. She’s sort of like a teleporting motorcycle. Took me four revolutions to save up the credits. You can fly on her too, but where we’re going, it’s more of a ‘here then there’ process. Hop on.”

She nodded and took a place behind him on the speeder. After a moment it sprung to life and a force field formed around them. Tina was intrigued, but non-plussed. Weirdness had lost its effect on her.

“Let’s go,” she heard Shane say. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she held on and with a whoosh, the docking pad disappeared. The space around them turned into a dazzling array of lights and colors. As before, she wasn’t concerned, but she was amazed, especially as she felt no adverse effects from the speed they were going. It was as though the bike wasn’t a speeder, it was a mini starship, and they were moving through hyperspace. The light show only lasted for about 30 seconds though, before they dropped out of... whatever warp zone they were in and arrived at their destination – another docking pad. This one had multiple ports and was being attended by robot valets.

As Shane’s bike powered down, and the forcefield dispersed, one of the valets approached.

“Greetings, Great-Coordinator,” the robot said as they dismounted the speeder. “You will find your entrance at location 4-V. Enjoy your experience.”

Shane nodded and turned to Tina.

“Shall we?” he said, holding out his arm.

Tina smiled. She hadn’t been this happy in… well as long as she could remember. Shane was speaking to her. Not at her, but to her. She could tell he didn’t see her as a slave but as a person. A valid human being.

It was wonderful.

All around them, cameras were recording their entrance. It was like they were celebrities.

Well, in a way, she supposed they were. She was the champion, and he was a Grand Coordinator and a Grand Master at that. The actual Supreme Master was something of a mystery. He never showed his face in the compound and even knowing his name or image was forbidden to all **_Oyv_.** If Tina had to guess, she’d say he was running the entire operation from some comfortable office, far from whatever planet, or rather moon that the actual **_Heig’on_** compound was located on. The telecommunications network of the Gorosian Empire was vast and wherever the empire touched, you could reach via computer link. So, whoever the hell was running the show, nobody outside of the high muckity mucks of the arena knew who he, she, or whoever they were. This meant that Shane was one of the faces of the **_Heig’on_ ,** and at that moment, so was she.

As she headed into the Ball, she glanced aside to study her chaperone. His face as he viewed the crowd was hard and serious. When he was looking at them, he seemed so much like his father – cold, calculating, and heartless. It was almost scary. But then, he turned to look at her, and his eyes shone, a gentle smile on his face. The Jekyll and Hyde factor was disturbing to her and she wondered just what he’d had to become to get where he was. As a Grand Coordinator, he was one of the ones responsible for scooping slaves and setting up match types. Many of the deathmatches she’d been in had been at his command. All those people killed by her and by the other **_Heig’on_** fighters and guards – There was so much blood on his hands.

Tina shuddered. Her blood ran cold as she walked thinking of what Shane had turned into. She watched him beside her as he stared down the masses. She drew a ragged breath and trembled in fear. This – this wasn’t the Shane she knew at all. This was something different. It wasn’t even the Shane that she had seen on TV. This was deathly serious.

And then, once more, he turned to her. His brown eyes gleamed in the light and he said just one word.

“Relax”

With that, she was ok. Her apprehension faded and she returned to normal. Her train of thought evaporated, banished to the recesses of her memory. If he wasn’t the Shane she remembered, it didn’t matter because, at that moment, he was _her_ Shane.

The gala was being held at one of the most lavish halls the outlying planets had to offer. She had learned earlier from a helpful **_Soto_** that the ball was being held on VardJakka _,_ or as the Gorosian naming system went, Planet Jakka of the Vard system. Tina hadn’t been outside the compound since arriving in that era so to finally see another location was more than she could ever imagine.

Naturally, there were no other humans besides them at the ball. Shane as a human Grand-Master was extremely rare, and most humans never reached the status that either of them had. So, to see her on his arm at the gala must have been a shock to all the strange strange creatures that surrounded them. The cavalcade of aliens and beings she saw around her amazed and intrigued her. Of course, she was familiar with the Gorosians and Vash-Yvvarans, but there were so many different faces on display. There was an Ixxon walking several yards ahead of them, his fish scales unmistakable even from behind. There were several Tin’uVak’mi whose iridescent reptilian skin was contrasted by the deep, rich purple of their tunics. Of particular note were a pair of MoqWaan, from the planet LuptooMoq, who were walking side by side toward a far entrance, their horns adorned with rings and dongles and wearing a pair of flowing robes that seemed to float above the ground where they fell behind them. Many of the species she’d come to know in the Arena were represented… and then some. One species she didn’t recognize looked like a purplish-black, moving pile of crystals. Another was short and pink wearing nothing except a pair of shining, silver tights on their four thin legs. There were so many species represented, and she was still on the landing platform! It was incredible. For so long, Tina hadn’t seen the other denizens of her new world as people. But these? These were real, living beings with real lives. And as she watched them staring at her and Shane, she realized that every one of those creatures was, in some twisted way, viewing her as the same. She may have been **_Manu-9174_** any other day, but at that moment she was **_Saa’Spaza_**. The Girl with the Bronze Curls. She wasn’t just some random piece of **_Heig’on_** property, she was a person.

She was Tina.

Of course, she was still technically a slave. She knew by then that the Yvvarans were capable of tracking biosignatures through her implants and if she tried to escape she’d be found and executed without hesitation. She needed to be on her best behavior and remain in her place. But for that night, her eyes weren’t quite as firmly fixed on the ground.

She saw people’s faces.  
She saw Shane’s face.  
And as their eyes met, and they entered the lavish **_Qyool_** hall, the lights of the ballroom blazed with the fire of a thousand Earth suns.

* * *

Tina was enthralled.

It had been the most wonderful night. Exotic, gourmet cuisine from all over the galaxy, People snapping photos all around. People wanting interviews and soundbites. There’d even been some relics from Earth involved, including something that she believed was supposed to be steak. When she saw that, she was quite confused.

She turned to the Jakkan who was tending to the table. The steak, as it appeared, had been cut into small, bite-sized cubes, almost like hoer d’ourves. It was… well whoever prepared it had missed the point of steak entirely. Still, she was confused and decided to ask.

“Excuse me,” she asked the Jakkan, “Is this steak?”

The Jakkan looked at her, clearly confused. In Gorosian, he responded, _[“I apologize, Champion. Could you repeat that in Gorosian?”]_

_Oh, right_ , she realized.

_Jakkan doesn’t translate neatly to English._

_Use Gorosian._

Trying again, she asked, _[“The meat. Is it...”]_

She stopped. Steak was an Earth food, one which, if there was a Gorosian word for, she wasn’t aware of it.

She shook her head.

_Of course it isn’t beef,_ she’d told herself, _do you see any cows around here?_

She decided to take a different approach. She tried to think of the Gorosian word for “Meat” but realized she didn’t know that word either. Finally, she settled on the closest word she knew.

_[“Animal,”]_ she asked, _[“Is it animal.”]_

The Jakkan’s confused look faded.

_[“I see. You wish to know if it is flesh?”]_ he asked.

_[“Yes, is it?”]_

The Jakken appeared to smile sharply and _replied [“I am afraid it is not. Consumption of living flesh is strictly prohibited by the Code of the Supreme Designer. Even at an event such as this, we would not dare to transgress in such a manner. This delicacy, while replicated to simulate a flesh product from Earth, is made entirely of plant-material and synthetic compounds.”]_

She nodded, before asking, _[“Right. So if that’s true, why are you so happy about it?”]_

_[“Happy?”]_

Tina huffed before motioning to her own face and turning her mouth into a large grin.

“Smiling,” she said in English maintaining the expression. Again, she didn’t know if there even was a Gorosian word for the gesture, so she stuck with her native tongue.

Of course, it didn’t help her case much, the Jakkan was more confused than ever.

“Smile-ing?” he asked, attempting to replicate the word, before switching to Gorosian once more, _[“I fear I do not know that word.”]_

Tina was growing impatient. _[“On SolTerra, when you turn your mouth upward, it means you are pleased. Are you pleased?”]_

The statement seemed to finally clear things up for the server _. [“Greatest Champion. It is a_ ** _m’linnu_** _. The upward crescent of my mouth indicates a negative response in my culture. Similarly, moving the mouth downward is a display of joy.”]_

_Ah,_ Tina realized. _That explains it._ She didn’t recognize the word he used, either it was a Gorosian word she was unaware of, or it was a Jakken word thrown in the mix. Still, his meaning was clear. For Jakkans, smiling was frowning and frowning was smiling _._

_[“I see. That makes sense,”]_ she replied, making sure not to smile herself.

_["Is there anything else you require?”]_

Tina responded by simply taking one of the steak bites off the tray and thanking him. As much as she would love to have a cultural lesson on the emotional responses of VardJakka, there was delicious food to eat _._

She popped the steak bite in her mouth.

_Well, maybe other delicious food. Blech._

Luckily, there was other food that was much tastier. There were small, round, pastry balls that had a type of sweet berry filling. She took several of those. There was also a tray of blue cookie things which tasted a bit like cheesecake, despite the consistency being wrong. She enjoyed those the most, despite the dissonant texture and color, and put three more of them on her plate after her first sample.

She tried all the foods available to her. Some were good, some were bad, but all of them were unique. Although, strangely enough, no matter how many pastries she ate, her stomach never seemed to get full.

_Probably more of that BioTech mojo,_ she figured, and headed back for more cheesecake macaroons.

When the time came for dinner itself, Shane found her and, after chiding her about eating too many blue cookies (which were apparently NOT the same as **_Heig’on_** food, and he informed her she’d probably be sick and spend the next day in one of the Compound’s previously unknown bathrooms,) he guided her to a room filled with large dining tables. There, she was served a dish of what she could only think of as tofu sushi and French fries. Again, the experience was new to her but, unlike the fake steak, this food was delicious, and when she was done her stomach was pleasantly full.

Shane had been sat across the table from her, too far apart to hold a conversation, but it didn’t stop her from glancing over at him from time to time, admiring the view. Supreme, he was handsome. Time might make crones of everyone but even with his newly worn appearance, he was still attractive. Meanwhile, the banquet, which was being held in her favor, involved a ceremony honoring her and her **_Manua_** kin.

She’d been required to make a speech, but after spending half the night giving interviews, she’d gotten the hang of what to say. Between the **_Qyool_** and her time at the compound, she’d learned to weave bullshit like a poet, and the speech she gave earned her loud applause.

She even threw in a nod to Shane while she was at it. She knew she probably shouldn’t but couldn’t help herself. She was just so thrilled to be on a date with him.

_It’s not a date, she kept reminding herself._

_He’s your boss, not your boyfriend._

_Besides, he’s married._

Still, she couldn’t help but shake a nagging feeling that there was something between them and she began to suspect he felt the same. As she ate her food, he kept staring at her. Not while she was watching, mind you; when she looked up, he always diverted his eyes quickly. But he was watching her, examining her. Tina wondered if he was trying to figure her out.

_Or maybe, he’s trying to figure himself out._

It was after dinner when she got the first true indication of something amiss.

As they were leaving the dining room, Shane pulled her aside away from the traffic of the adjacent hall. And, as his skin touched hers, she again felt the electricity flow between them.

“All right, you,” he said, his voice low and gruff at the edges, “what’s up? What’s your purpose?”

Tina was confused. Was this some sort of test? Why would he ask her that?

_Submit,_ she decided.

_Submit and show reverence. Someone must be watching._

Looking around warily, she replied, “Grand-Master, my only purpose is to bring glory and honor to the Arena of Fighting.”

She was expecting a camera to appear at any moment. Instead, she felt Shane grab her arm roughly, jerking it towards him. The electricity was stronger this time, almost like a lightning bolt striking her and she yelped in pain. She looked back, turning her eye toward his and when she did, she saw a fire there that was far from the friendliness she had seen earlier in the evening.

“Cut that crap out, **_Spaza_** ,” he growled, “What’s your game. What are you doing to me?”

She was confused. And a bit frightened.

“Grand-Master,” she said, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Shane groaned, before pulling her arm up to eye level.

“The shocks,” he explained, “Why the hell does touching you feel like I’m sticking my finger in an outlet??”

_Oh. That._

She shook her head.

“Look,” she told him, “If you’re talking about whatever the hell energy keeps flowing between us, then I swear to God I’m as clueless as you are!”

Shane didn’t relent, pulling her closer, and as her face was drawn near his she struggled to maintain his gaze. She had been commanded to keep her eyes up, but staring down Shane O Mac when he had that level of burning intensity was extremely difficult.

Then, suddenly, he let her go, and the fire was gone, replaced with a creased brow and a look of quiet surprise.

“ ** _Taa-Amahodi_** ,” he said softly, “You really don’t know, do you?”

Still shaken by his outburst, she replied, “I’m sorry, Grand-Master. I honestly have no idea. I wish I did.”

Her fear was getting the better of her and she began to stammer.

“Maybe - I don’t know - maybe you - you shouldn’t have brought me. I’m – I’m just causing you trouble and – “

“No,” he said firmly, cutting her off, before shifting his tone into something softer and more affectionate. He reached out and took her hands in his own, gently this time, and invoking the sensation once more. However, this time, it was more subtle, less like lightning and more like standing under powerlines with an umbrella.

“No,” he repeated, “you belong here. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just don’t understand what’s happening is all.”

He glanced around the hallway. Several people had stopped to watch, and Tina was suddenly aware of their piercing gaze herself. Thankfully, none of them appeared to have cameras, but they did look puzzled over what was happening. Shane dropped her hands and took a step away from her.

“Nothing to see, my friends,” he said loudly, “Just having a conversation with the Greatest Champion. Please, continue with your celebration.”

The people took the hint and dispersed and Shane turned once more to Tina.

“That includes you,” he added, his tone hushed and private. “Enjoy the **_Qyool_**. You never know when you’ll get another night like this.”

Shane cracked a half-smile, but didn’t wait for a response, quickly moving past Tina and heading down the hallway leaving her alone with her thoughts.

_Well,_ she mused silently.

_THAT was something._

She shook it off. He had a point, she had no idea when or if she’d ever get another night like that. Best to enjoy it while she could.

After taking a moment to collect herself, she stood up straight, pushed her shoulders back, and headed down the hallway toward the rest of the guests.

For the rest of the night, she was on her best behavior. She tried her hardest to communicate and maintain the highest level of etiquette and believed she was doing a good job. She didn’t talk to Shane again after their hallway encounter, only catching occasional glimpses of him across the room, but it was what it was. If their “spark” or whatever it was was causing him that much grief, then they were better off apart. They worked the room separately, and she had the time of her life. For a good three hours, if she could guess in Earth time, she was a person, eyes up, addressed as either “Champion” or “Madam” or any other number of alien formalities. On top of that, there were just so many different species represented. Beyond just the handful from the dock, she was astonished at the diverse cross-section of life that was attending the event. Up until that point, she thought she had an idea of what kinds of lifeforms she was dealing with in the Gorosian Empire. Now she realized that the dozen or so species she’d met in the compound were just the tip of the iceberg.

It was glorious.

But she couldn’t help but be concerned about Shane. What the hell was going on with him?

More importantly, what the hell was going on with her?

She stood in a corner, munching on another blue cheesecake cookie, and watched as Shane conversed with a well-dressed Gorosian across the room. Whatever they were discussing, Shane didn’t seem to be having a good time.

It wasn’t a good sign. A displeased Master never was and pissing off someone as high ranking as Shane was a quick way to get yourself killed.

_Balls._

_I’m in so much trouble._

_Better enjoy tonight while you can._

Tina tossed the rest of the cookie in her mouth and gulped it down. Again, the texture was all wrong for cheesecake and as she looked around for a nearby beverage tray, she couldn’t help but wonder if the Gorosian Empire had alcohol.

“I could really go for a drink,” she mumbled aloud.

She shook the nagging worry out of her mind. Fear got you nowhere in the **_Heig’on_** , and it wouldn’t help her there. Whatever was bothering Shane, one way or another she’d find out.

She just hoped he didn’t have plans to get rid of her so soon after her victory. She didn’t know the protocol for a newly crowned **_Saa’Spaza_** , but if Shane wanted her disposed of, all he had to do was snap his fingers and she’d be toast.

_Nah,_ she thought to herself. _He wouldn’t do that. He’s still Shane under all that façade._

_Right?_

She sighed and headed off to find something to drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for anyone who has read this far. I appreciate your efforts and support. I've poured my soul into this silly piece of drivel so I'm happy at least three of you are reading it. Well, I hope there's three of you. Considering the numbers, there's either three people who read every update, or three unique people who click on it every time it updates and then immediately give up on it.
> 
> Not sure which. I hope the first.
> 
> Anyway, thanks again for reading!


	12. A Puzzlement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cathal finds himself confronted by the dynamic mystery that is Manu-9174. Having earned an audience with him for winning the tournament, he invites her to be his date to the Championship Ball. However, if he was drawn to her before, he's absolutely enthralled with her now for reasons he can't begin to comprehend and are frankly pissing him off royally. And what the hell is going on with her shocking him every time they touch??
> 
> He's going to have to find a way to sort himself out and fast.
> 
> But first, he has to get through the ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter for tonight!
> 
> In case the summary doesn't clue you in, this is the exact same event as chapter 11, told from Shane's perspective. Not much you need to know besides that.
> 
> We're reaching the climax of our story. Stay tuned.

Cathal was losing his goddamn mind.

That woman, that damn **_Manu-9174_** , he couldn’t shake her. He tried. Almost as soon as he arrived at the event, he separated from her, putting as much distance as he physically could between them. He didn’t want to be around her, he didn’t even want to see her. Every time he looked at her, it felt like boiling water being poured over his skin.

He was sick, he had to be. She had some sort of alien contagion that he wasn’t accustomed to. Or maybe he was allergic to something about her. Even worse, he wondered if she was a subversive agent, brought to the **_Heig’on_** to undermine his authority or bring him down. That idea frightened him, especially knowing how quickly he’d fallen under her spell, but regardless something was wrong, he had to figure out what.

And as he stood off to the side, discussing viewership numbers with one of his fellow promoters, he caught a glimpse of her talking to a friendly Jakkan at the snack table.

The way she held herself, the spirit and kindness, the heart. She had to have killed over two hundred other fighters by that point, including the human **_Manu-11590_**. There was no way she had anything resembling a soul left in her body. You didn’t slaughter that many living beings and keep your humanity.

He would know; he’d sent enough people to their deaths by that point that he had first-hand experience of the decay and destruction it had on your spirit. Unless you were a psychopath by nature, the line of work they were both in only served to kill you in one manner or another.

So how the hell did she make him feel so alive?

Two rotations ago, he was a monster with little to no resemblance to the man he once was.

Since then, he’d gotten a haircut and cleaned himself up, partially to prepare for the **_Saa’Spazara Qyool_** and partially for reasons even he didn’t understand. And when he looked at his reflection in his quarters as he prepared to leave, he couldn’t help but notice Shane McMahon staring back at him from the mirror.

The lovesick idiot.

He’d ridden Annie to the **_Qyool_** , with 9174 seated behind him. He loved that damn bike and had titled it after his wife Marissa’s middle name. It wasn’t really a bike though, and certainly not a motorcycle. They were called **_Tuwaki_** Neina’lit and were closer to a rideable starship/teleportation device than an actual chopper. Still, it reminded him of Earth and it was the one artifact from his past he allowed to remain in his life. His old bike had been named after her, the new one was as well.

He’d been cordial to the Spaza up until they arrived at the ball, after which he’d broken away from her. As much as he felt the need to be near her, his brain was screaming otherwise and as he fielded the crowd of partygoers, he felt anxiety and fear he thought he’d left behind long ago swell in his chest.

Cathal wished the Songminder was there. Zhe always knew just what to say to calm him down. But this was a grand ball, Zhe hadn’t been invited, and Cathal was left on his own.

So, he mingled. He mingled and worked the room. It wasn’t his first tournament ball, but it was his first as a Grand-Coordinator, there were far more eyes on him now than before. He’d just been a Great-Coordinator during the last tournament, a step below his current position, and now he was one of the big shots, one of the people pulling the strings of the entire operation. He had to represent his brand.

Thankfully, he had a lot of practice. And as he flowed easily from conversation to conversation, even he was amazed at how skilled he was at putting on a show.

_Wow,_ he thought to himself. _I’m good at this shit. You’d think I had a history as an entertainer-_

Cathal’s train of thought came to a crashing halt.

Of course he did. He’d just repressed it. Again. How quickly that was working for him lately. The Songminder had taught him a meditation technique where you could shove memories into a vault in your brain and seal them off. He’d gotten good at it, and prior to the previous rotation, he’d nearly managed to eliminate all traces of Shane McMahon.

And then, she happened, and it all came crashing back. That damn **_Spaza_** ruining everything. Without contact with other humans, he’d learned not to be one. Now the floodgates were open and he could barely contain his emotions. He was drowning in her, her features and beauty choking him and leaving him sinking into a sea of green and bronze.

He stared again at her from afar, this time watching as she gave a short interview for a local media outlet. She was a natural, he could tell. She’d make a fine brand ambassador.

If he could just get her out of his head.

As he was watching her, he heard someone approach from behind. Turning to face them, he saw it was a two-person news crew, with an Ixxon camera operator and a Pyearri interviewer.

Cathal was a bit shocked. Pyearri were a rarity outside the KVZ planets. Blue skinned and flight enabled, they looked a bit like a cross between a butterfly, a bat, and a bee, with thin black antennae sprouting from their foreheads and short black spikes in place of hair. This particular Pyearri had the markings of a female of the species, her blue skin peppered by small gold dots, signifying her gender. Pyerarri were relatively attractive, but he wasn’t accustomed to seeing them as there were none in the **_Heig’on_**. Pyearri, they weren’t built for labor or violence, and if there had been any brought to the Compound, they hadn’t lasted long enough for Cathal to take notice.

Naturally, this meant that Cathal didn’t speak Pyear. If he was going to talk to them, he’d have to be very careful to make sure the translator understood him.

Still, seeing one at the ball was a treat and he greeted them warmly.

With a kind word, he asked, “Good evening. How may I be of help for you?”

The Pyearri interviewer replied that they’d like to get an interview for “Combative Competition Nightly” and if he could spare a moment. He told them he could and the cameraman set up his gear.

Once prepared, the interview began.

“Greetings, viewers,” she began, “I am PyeAdona present at the **_Saa-Spazara Qyool_** with Grand-Coordinator Cathal of the popular Yvvaran super-sport **_sa Heig’on a Manu_**. If possible, Cathal, please explain to our viewers the methods in which the competitors for the tournament are chosen?”

Cathal nodded.

Just the standard stuff. No issue, although the idea that the Heig’on might be stretching into the Allied Planets was troubling. If nothing else, the effects it could have on his and the Songminder’s plans could prove difficult. Still, it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

“Yes PyeAdona,” he replied, “as you and your viewers know, **_sa Heig’on_** holds battles on a rotational basis to uncover the best and most skilled fighters from across the galaxy. Pulling in willing combatants from all across the Gorosian Empire, we offer those willing to put their hearts and bodies on the line the greatest rewards should they achieve victory. The **_Saa’Heig’on Kiin’tA_** is the highest level of victory that a fighter can achieve, and with their victory comes a promised reign of ten revolutions of glory and praise, accompanied by riches and rewards inconceivable.”

“I understand. And, in your own speech, tell our viewers what makes this latest victor so great. The previous three **_Kiin’tA_** were won by the Praxxon, The Great Wall. Can you tell us how The Bronze Curl Woman has surpassed the previous champion, accomplishing what was once seen as impossible?”

The question made Cathal hesitate, but only for a moment.

_Naturally, she wants to hear about the Champion. It’s the championship ball. This is her night._

_Stay calm. She just wants a soundbyte._

“I believe that The Bronze Curl Woman’s strength lies in her speed. She does possess an unusual amount of strength for a simple Earth woman, you may take my word on that. But accompanying that strength is the capacity to out-maneuver almost any opponent she faces. It is a formidable combination that has brought her the highest honor, with her supreme agility, power, and beauty reigning on top in **_sa Heig’on_** and across all the surrounding sectors.”

The Pyearri made a noise that sounded like a chuckle.

“Of course, Grand-Coordinator, I am certain she possesses great beauty in the eyes of a SolTerran, but her appearance is hardly conventional here in the Gorosian Empire.”

Cathal froze.

Had he called her beautiful?

_Ah shit._

_I really said that, didn’t I._

“Um, yes,” he stammered, “to a SolTerran, she would be considered attractive.”

It was more a lie than not. Most men had considered Chyna ugly back in the day, and she was more built now than Chyna was at her strongest. She had a more feminine face though, with piercing eyes and her hair was so luscious you could get lost in it, but…

He was losing focus again.

Returning his attention to PyeAdona again, he remarked, “Obviously, her beauty is minimal compared to yours, PyeAdona.”

The complement did the trick and the reporter chittered in appreciation, before thanking him and closing her segment. He stood by as she did and once the cameras were off, she turned to him once more.

“Very unusual, your choice of word, Grand-Coordinator Cathal,” she remarked, “I would not expect someone as elevated in status as yourself to find the **_Saa’Spaza_** to be visually pleasing. May chance she has surprised you with her victory?”

“Something like that,” Cathal muttered, before adding, “If you will excuse me, I must be moving on.”

“I understand. Please, proceed.”

He tilted his head slightly as he left, a Gorosian show of courtesy, and turned to leave. As he did, he realized 9174 was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t mind. If that interview was anything to go by, he needed to spend some time on his own, sorting out his thoughts. So, silently hoping to avoid ’74 until dinner, he left the reception hall and headed into one of the adjacent rooms.

One and a half **_goms_** later, his mission was complete. He’d managed to avoid her entirely. And as he looked down at his wrist to check the time (thank God they had watches in the future) he realized it was almost his scheduled mealtime.

There was no avoiding her further. He was expected to accompany her to the grand banquet. She was to be seated at the main table, along with several of the **_Heig’on’s_** biggest backers. He would also be at the table, but not directly beside her.

Making his way through the halls, he found her in a corner with a plate of Jakkan Zulruiaks. There were two of the blue sandwich cookies on her plate, with a third in her hand. He couldn’t help but laugh, as he swore he’d seen her taking several from the snack table earlier in the evening.

“How many of those have you had?” he asked as he approached.

Her eyes went wide at the question and she gulped down the one she was chewing on.

“Uhh… a few?” she replied.

“You know, those aren’t **_Heig’on_** food. They aren’t perfectly balanced like the stuff at the compound. Eat enough of them and you’re going to get uncomfortable.”

“What, I’ll be sick?”

“No, you’ll have to go.”

“I’ll… hang on, you’re saying that there are bathrooms outside the compound???”

Cathal nodded. “There are bathrooms in the compound too, but the **_Oyv_** food is designed to be perfect or near-perfect nutrition so you don’t use them. Between the precise formulation of the food and the effects of the **_Ran-Mats_** , most **_Oyv_** go their entire time without ever seeing one. Doubt that’ll be the case for you though. We may have to leave you in clothes for a few rotations, as much as you’ve eaten tonight.”

“Oops”

He shrugged. “Whatever. Got room for more?”

“Absolutely,” she replied happily, and he held out his arm once more. She took it, and as she did, her hand brushed his sending that same jolt through his system again.

He closed his eyes.

_She’s doing something to me, the witch._

_I don’t know what, but something._

_She must be._

“Grand-Master, are you ok?” she asked.

Cathal opened his eyes again.

“I am. Time for dinner,” he told her and led her towards the dining hall.

* * *

Cathal was growing more frustrated by the minute.

He sat across from her at dinner and watched as the banquet was held to celebrate her. The Master of Ceremonies gave a speech honoring all the **_Heig’on_** fighters and spoke of how brave and masterful 9174’s rise to the top had been. He then called for her to speak to the crowd, and as she did, Cathal found himself hanging on her every word.

“Esteemed guests of the **_Saa’Sparaza Qyool_** ,” she said proudly, “I came to you over six revolutions ago as a lowly recruit, young and inexperienced, yet proud and haughty. I had a great amount to learn and a great amount, I admit, I did not wish to learn. However, in my time competing for **_sa Heig’on a Manu_** , I have learned and experienced things I would never have imagined on SolTerra. The diversity, the culture, and the luxuries I have been greeted with at the **_Heig’on_** have surpassed my largest dreams and greatest desires. The kindness and generosity are without match and I have made connections and formed relationships that I am certain will last for the remainder of my lifespan.”

Cathal couldn’t help but notice the look she gave him directly at that line. He diverted his own gaze quickly, but the look was an unmistakable one of adoration.

She continued.

“I am honored to be your **_Saa’Spaza_** and I promise every one of you that I will spend my reign bringing the highest glory and prestige to the **_Heig’on_** , and through its association, all of you. Thank you for the opportunity you have shown me and the chance to pursue my quest for victory and a place among the **_Heig’on_** legends.”

She raised her voice slightly and switched to Gorosian as she concluded.

_[“Supreme Designer praise the Arena of Fighting, and praise all who are attended here this night!”]_

Cheers, respectful cheers but cheers nonetheless erupted from the attendees, accompanied by them tapping their hands and feet (the Gorosian equivalent of clapping). The MC stood up once more and congratulated her, saying some final words before concluding the ceremony.

However, his words were lost on Cathal’s ears. He couldn’t get past the Champion. Beyond the elegance of her speech, the way she looked at him and how she made him feel was undeniable. If nothing else, the fact that every time they touched skin to skin he got a shock deeply troubled him. She was like a walking battery, and just touching her was like getting electrocuted with a set of charged jumper cables. Supreme he hated it. A lifetime ago, he had been a mild celebrity. Very mild, more famous from his dad than anything. But the way she stared at him, he could practically smell the fan worship dripping from her.

It was a crock of shit. Her crush, or whatever Shane had been to her, was long gone. And Grand-Coordinator Cathal was deserving of nobody’s love.

Least of all one of the **_Manua_** that he spent his days setting up to kill each other.

He shook it off and refocused on his dinner. In honor of the **_Saa’Spaza’s_** Earth roots, a “SolTerran Cuisine” had been selected – Sushi. Naturally, it wasn’t actual sushi, there was no fish involved, raw or otherwise. But they’d used something akin to tofu as the protein in them and it was quite tasty. There was also a side of “fries” made from one of the many root vegetables grown in the Empire. He did find it amusing that they would make this particular pairing of “Fish and Chips” but he realized that knowledge of Earth anything was extremely limited, so whoever was planning it did the best they could.

It didn’t matter. It tasted like home.

But he still couldn’t shake the **_Spaza_**.

He stared at her across the table, making note of the way she held and conducted herself. He didn’t know how long he stared, but eventually, she noticed, and he quickly looked away. He only returned to his studies when she was distracted, and for the rest of dinner, they played a game of “Don’t look at me” that would have made the boys back on Earth jealous in its intensity.

Soon, dinner was over, and he’d had enough.

He pulled her aside and confronted her. He got mad, far madder than he intended, and was shocked when she told him she had no idea what was going on between them; she was just as confused about that damn electricity as he was.

And when he looked into her eyes, he realized she was speaking the truth.

He let her go after that, leaving to work the halls once more. Interviews here, photos there. He did his best to avoid talking to her directly.

But he kept his eye on her and as he stood across one of the side halls watching her give yet another interview, his viewpoint was suddenly broken as a Vak’mi guest, one of their sponsors by the name of Korv Yaskai approached him.

“Greetings, Grand-Coordinator Cathal,” she began.

Cathal nodded. “Greetings, Lady Yaskai.”

“Please, call me Korv,” she replied.

“Of course. Korv. How is the party treating you?”

Lady Yaskai gave a look of approval. “Very well, thank you.”

There was a moment of silence between them, and Cathal’s eyes wandered back toward the Champion once more.

“She is something special, correct?” Korv asked.

Shane returned his attention to the Vak’mi. “What is that?”

Yaskai motioned one of her webbed appendages toward the Champion.

“The **_Saa’Spaza_**. She is truly a wonder. How she holds herself, the prestige and grace. It is entirely unlike a **_Manu_** would do so. Such an amazement, and a human also. To think a simple SolTerran would reach such grand heights. To do so is unheard of and to overcome the limitations of her primitive nature is astounding. No displaced being has ever achieved greatness in the Empire before her.”

Korv paused for a moment before adding, “Excluding yourself, Grand-Coordinator.”

Cathal decided he would ignore the blatant prejudice Korv was throwing at him. At that moment, he really wished he could break her legs for insulting the **_Spaza_** (and himself) like that, but he knew better. It wouldn’t look good on him or the **_Heig’on_** to piss off one of their biggest backers.

So, he ignored her and turned his eyes once again to **_Manu-9174_**. He was staring, he couldn’t help it.

Lady Yaskai noticed.

“The way you observe her. Do you have feelings for her?”

Cathal felt his cheeks flush, despite himself.

“No, of course not,” he said, a bit too defensively, before reiterating calmly, “no. I am not in love with her. She is beautiful though.”

“Perhaps. For a SolTerran, her appearance is not unpleasant, although I do not believe such forms should be celebrated. Her famed curls bring her honor, but a savage such as her would be lucky to find companionship outside her own time.”

Cathal sighed. He was quickly growing tired of Lady Yaskai’s overt bigotry, but it was what it was.

“She is…” he began again before stopping. Maybe if he got his feelings out into the open, he could understand them better.

“There’s something about her,” he confessed, “I can’t stop thinking about her. I don’t know, maybe I’m not used to seeing another human around. Or, maybe there’s more to it than that.”

Yaskai made a chirping noise that Shane recognized as a sound of confusion.

“I am not sure I understand what you are saying,” she told him.

Cathal paused before playing back his words in his mind and quickly realized the issue.

_Contractions. These damn translators can’t register contractions._

He decided to forgo fully repeating his statement and instead replied, “She is making me emotional. I do not know why, but she is.”

Korv motioned in approval, before placing a hand on Cathal’s arm.

“If you are feeling love toward her, it would not do to deny those feelings,” she told him.

He scoffed. “Love is pointless,” he replied, “There are no opportunities in the arena for a Grand Master to love a **_Manu_** , Korv. It simply does not happen.”

The Vak’mi cooed slightly in response. “The Grand Tome states that love is not opportunistic. It flows freely between souls and the energies of the universe itself cannot deter it.”

Cathal fought the urge to roll his eyes. The Grand Tome was the Bible of the 9th Epoch. It was a Gorosian sacred text that, much like the Bible, was supposedly written by the Supreme Designer. He’d always meant to give it a look-see, but he’d never gotten around to it. Regardless, he doubted the Gorosian Bible was going to help him in this situation.

Shaking his head, Cathal remarked, “Lady Yaskai, opportunity is all I have. There is nothing else to work for for a human here.”

“Then perhaps,” Korv said in a low tone, “you should extend your opportunity to her. Excuse me.”

Korv Yaskai took her leave of Cathal, moving past him and leaving him alone once more.

_Good riddance,_ he mused.

_I was about ready to tear that bitch apart._

_Who the fuck does she think she is. That’s the Spaza! She’s –_

His thought train derailed once more as he realized that he didn’t even know what to call her. She’d said “Barai” but that wasn’t good enough. For someone as marvelous as her, she’d need a name of equal grandeur. Something that reflected her luminance and sparkle… not to mention the fire she stoaked in his chest whenever she drew near.

His brain started cycling through possibilities before he realized that it wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t get his own head on straight. He needed to understand who she was to him and to do so, he’d have to spend some time alone with her. 

He needed to find the **_Spaza_** and, as he started making his way through the party, he could almost hear his sister’s voice speaking to him.

_“Talk to her. Get to know her. Maybe if you can understand her, you’ll understand yourself.”_

Cathal smiled.

He honestly thought he’d forgotten what Stephanie’s voice sounded like.

It wasn’t the worst advice and, as he spotted her across the room, he knew what he had to do.

_One night,_ he told himself.

_You get one night with her. If you can’t figure yourself out then, you never speak to her again._

Taking a short break to contact his superior, he got the clearance he needed and went to find her. Discovering her near the snack table once more pushing another Zulruiak into her mouth, he approached her with a chiding look. With a face that screamed “caught in the literal cookie jar,” she swallowed the bite and laughed.

“Sorry,” she told him, “I just haven’t had cookies since I arrived. I could get fat on these things if I let myself.”

“Doing a pretty good job of it already,” Cathal replied, “Where are you putting all this food?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s like my stomach gets full, and twenty minutes later, I’m starving again.”

“Might be a fault in your implant. Something compelling you to eat. We should get it checked out once we return to the Compound.”

“Or maybe I’m just thrilled to have real food for a change.”

“Regardless, as much as you’ve eaten tonight, you’re going to be miserable tomorrow.”

“Probably. But this is my night. I’m going to make the most of it. Isn’t that what you said? Enjoy myself?”

“Yeah. I did.”

She smiled broadly. “Well, I am. And I’m glad you’re with me, Grand-Master.”

And just like that, the boiling water was upon him once more. The fondness in her voice fanned the inferno she’d ignited the previous day and he was lost in the green, oceanic glow of her eyes and the metallic braided tresses falling behind her.

And yet, there was something more.

Her voice wasn’t the same as it had been in his office. Nor was it the same as it had been earlier in the night. There was a noticeable undercurrent of fear present, as though she was grinning through the anxiety. He remembered his outburst earlier and realized he must have frightened her. It hadn’t been his intention, but he was just so overwhelmingly conflicted about her that he knew he’d probably lash out at her again before the night was over.

That was the tricky thing about a heart.

If it goes unused for too long, it atrophies like a withered muscle.

And after 25 revolutions in the Heig’on, his heart had shrunken into a useless husk.

Whatever the hell she was causing in him, it wouldn’t end well. That much was certain. If he was falling in love with her, it would only end in tears. If she was campaigning against him deliberately, then it would end in bloodshed. Regardless, he needed to sort them both out, and the Garden was the best place to get the privacy needed to do so.

He peered into her piercing orbs once more and felt his corroded soul stir.

_Maybe she needs to be afraid of me._

_Maybe fear will get her to stop._

_She really has to stop._

This was going to be a hell of a lot harder than he thought.

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading.
> 
> As always, I appreciate you supporting me in my story. It's not the best story, and it has next to nothing to do with the fandom it's a part of (although I promise part 2 will be MUCH more Superstar Oriented). But it's a labor of love and I'm really writing for myself here. Anyone that wishes to come along for the ride has my blessing and thanks though.
> 
> Stay tuned for Chapter 13, coming soon.
> 
> It's titled "We're Not In Greenwich Anymore"

**Author's Note:**

> Well. Chapter 1 down. Hope you liked it. I'm pretty proud of this chapter, which is more than I can say for the rest of the story.
> 
> BTW, the women in this dream/saga, as well as the "New Mean Street Posse" are based on an actual group from the Attitude Era fan community. "Tina" is named after "Peteina Gas", "Nikki" is based after one of the member's yahoo handle, and "Billie" is named after "Billina P". All of us took "Posse Names" when we formed the group. If you're out there, ladies? Hit me up. I haven't forgotten you.
> 
> Added note: I know I mention in the series notes that Tina, Nikki, and Billie were based on myself and two others. For the record, Tina, the woman who this story deals with, is NOT based on me. Billie from part 3 is. Tina is a whole different person entirely and, frankly, I wish I could be half as badass at Tina IRL.


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